


Let Your Claws Be Gentle

by TheDevilishlyAngelic



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Multiple Pairings, Not enough recognition of the empathy of animals, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Relationship(s), family of vampires, growth can be painful, major tags will be put at beginning of chapters when needed, there is a lot of sweet in this fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:28:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 49,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21989530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDevilishlyAngelic/pseuds/TheDevilishlyAngelic
Summary: Post B&W where the story follows a witcheress of the school of cat by the name of Dessi. With resentment of her own school and past, Dessi scorns the notion of interactions with the other races, let alone other witchers. She lives a life of isolation in the wilderness with her only companion, her horse that she named Ms. Independent but addresses fondly as Ms. Indi. But even with her recent imposed self exile can't be stop when her heart keeps pulling her to help any who are downtrodden, no matter who or what they are.(In this verse, Syanna lives through the escape of the ribbon but instead in ending with Dettlaff's death, he relents and disappears into thin air. Canon characters appear later in story.)
Relationships: Dettlaff van der Eretein/Original Female Character(s), Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Comments: 73
Kudos: 74





	1. The Aimless Hunter

Sounds of the local fauna filtered the forest. Dry leaves rattled amongst each other as a cool breeze would flutter about between them. Song birds sing about, while land-bound critters rustled on the forest floor, searching and scavenging for any scraps of food that may have thawed from the frost as the morning light dances between the trees. Any lover of nature would delight in a moment such as this if they had no other pressing matters. Pressing matters such as survival tends to take precedence in moments like these. Unknown to the common life of these small creatures, light footsteps travel throughout the grounds. A shadow slips between the trees and brush.

A quiet inhale through the nose followed by a soft exhale through the mouth, an arrow is mounted. Another inhale and exhale, the string of a bow is pulled. The hunter inhales once again, arrow on the target, the string, at last, let loose. As the arrow is exhaled from the bow the air is breathed out by the hunter. A thud and the forest lays hushed. A beat a silence is followed before the sounds of movement from the hunter rising up from their crouched position. Walking over to the suddenly deceased rabbit, the arrow is pulled out and cleaned by a somewhat dirty rag, before it is slipped back into a quiver. A hand moves over the rabbit’s fur gingerly, as if petting it. Another hand moves to its head, before closing the departed creature’s eyes.

The sun is now raised higher in the sky, but is faintly cloaked by gray clouds. Though the clouds are thin, not much warmth is given from the obscured ball of light. Embers of a dying fire crackles and the partially eaten rabbit lays abandon on a stone. The only movements around comes from a mare that grazes near the campsite and from the hunter, who now sits crossed legged with one of their two swords in lap, an oiled rag moves to and fro on the blade expertly by small hands. A huff blows out the hunter’s nose when they deemed the work on the blades to be satisfactory. With a flick of the hunter’s hand, the embers die out. Items about the small makeshift camp are soon packed into their respected bags. Those same bags are tied to the mare who snorts at the added weight. Leaning forward, they pressed their forehead to the side of the mare’s neck. Eyes flutter close and for the moment there was no movement save for the hunter’s mouth becoming slack. A snore snaps them out of what definitely was not an attempted of a nap. Shaking their head, a disgruntled grunt emits from deep within. Eyes forced open but seems as if the action took great effort. Moving forward, the hunter grabs the reins on the mare, firmly pulling on them as they both return to traversing the forest.

It was hours later, the sky giving away red hues, when the mare gives a loud huff and stops suddenly. The horse looks to her hunter with impatient eyes and her hooves slap into the earth loudly. Looking back, the hunter’s lips thin together before bowing their head and shoulders drop low. But the posture only lasted for a moment, before leaning forward to the mare to press their foreheads together. Pulling back the hunter looks into the mare’s eyes with an apologetic fondness. A tightness twist in the hunter’s chest as they see the reflection of their own eyes within the mares. The kind of eyes that warrant disgust by most other sentient beings, eyes that glowed in the dark and pupils that are slits instead of round. Yet this horse holds no fear of the hunter and makes the fact known when steps forward to rub her head against the hunter’s chest.

A chuckle pulls its way out of upturned lips, “I know, I know, I’m terrible. Love you too Ms. Indi.” The voice is graveled from seemingly lack of use but still femininely soft. “Fine we will look for some water. Just please don’t decide to bite me again.” Another chuckle slips out at the thought of the other several times the mare has decided to not so gingerly remind the witcheress about basic necessities.

Tilting her head upwards and closing her eyes, the witcheress keys up her mutations to expand her senses. The sounds of the forest grows in clarity as what would go unnoticed by any human becomes as clear as day for the witcher. Two owls hoot about each other in a distant and the sound of a twig snapping brings her to focus on it for the moment. The sound stops for a moment before she catches the sound of something being scraped on a tree. Soon enough a distinct sound of hooves clinking against the hard ground reveals just a deer in the distance. She moves her head in a different angle and stills again. A small grin spreads across her face as the sought out sound of bubbling water moving across rocks is found.

“Well well, there you are” She pulls the reins so that they made their way to the source, “Guess we can even camp by the water tonight, right miss Indi?”

The mare neighs softly before moving forward to give a pointed push in the back of the witcher, “Geez, got it, got it. More walking, less talking.” The eyes crinkle in the corner of her eyes. “Has anyone told you that you are really bos-Oof!?”

A large thump knocks into her back as Miss Indi gives another impatient push against the witcher’s back. Biting the inside of her cheek, the witcher decides to keep quiet from then on.

The skies turn to a dark shade of purple as the sun sets in the distant. The clouds have cleared to reveal the stars and the moon. It did not take long until the duo came upon the desired destination of a thin running creek. Immediately the witcher pulls the gear off the mare, along with the reins, giving the well deserving horse the freedom of the day of trekking. Leaving Miss Indi to her own devices, the witcher kneels to the water to cup it and bring what she can to her mouth. Once satisfied of her fill she looks to the surrounding brush to find a spot to sleep. She decides the tree with high set bushes around it to be of her liking and makes quick work to digging a rut beneath the foliage. A pelt pulled from one of her bags, she wraps around herself before laying into the dirt. Underneath her little cocoon she pulls a sheathed dagger to her chest, her hand loosely wrapped around the hilt and much to her body’s delight, she closes her eyes. Before fully succumbing to some much desired sleep, she mutters out,

“I wonder where we will go next.”


	2. Blood Turns Stone to Dust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A startling wake-up from a dream pushes Dessi to continue her aimless journey when she comes across tracks of a band of armed men that recently passed by. Faced by the choices of either ignoring the trail or following them, What choice she makes starts the beginning of a story that surprises her with every step.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Triggers:  
> foul language  
> Violence and more excessive violence but more in the end of the chapter.  
> Eye gouging

_The sight of familiar stone walls immediately forms a heavy feeling of unease across her body. Every part of her body prickled as if to tell her to not go forward but her feet keep moving forward, one step followed by another. Shapes of what she guesses to be people step to the side for her to pass, though she could not make out their features. Any effort to focus on any of them only makes their muddled forms blur even more. But she knows them, doesn’t she? Why is she here?_

_‘This is wrong’! The thought cuts through her mind. ‘I need to leave! Turn back! Run!’_

_Step by step, her feet still kept moving forward. Sounds bouncing off heals off her boots reverberate loud and sharp, yet somehow distantly. She walks on and a door at the end of the hall. She knows these doors. It is the first thing in this dream that has any clarity. Dark ashen wood, trimmed to both she intimately knows to be both steel and silver. The metal designs converge to the center where two drop ring handles hang. The figurines that hold the possibilities of the beyond, stare with what she can only describe as sadistic taunts. It is the same figure that hangs over her chest. A reminder of what she was made into without say, what she will always be. Her body doesn’t miss a beat and pulls on the handle held by the cat._

_‘Never a choice,’ the thought dances in her mind, ‘The only one that can be made is to either turn yourself to stone or fall into oblivion. Never a way out. Never free.’_

_A room unfolds beyond and a figure kneeling in the center while the others stand in a circle around the person. Room full of cat eyes move to meet the witcher's own, except for the one kneeling._

_‘You know what to do.’ The voice feels sickly sweet in the witcher’s mind but unknown to be either here or someone else’s. Whoever it was in the end was inconsequential as her body keeps forward to then circle the one in the center, before coming to their side. Her hand feels the hilt of a sword as she draws it out. The figure doesn’t look up, but utters a plea. The exact words dance just beyond comprehension. She raises the blade and again the figure pleas, but what are they saying? The witcher’s head turns to another figure. All she sees is a nod. An understandment. It must be done. She is looking to the knelt figure, they look up but no matter she focuses, no features reveal the individual. Their mouth moves but the sound feels as if it’s coming from underwater. She swings the sword down and everything turns to smoke. Only for the first time a word becomes decipherable._

_“Dessi!”_

A strangled noise rips from Dessi’s throat, pelt thrown of her body, she stumbles upwards. Everything in her vision spins. There was light and far too much of it if she was to be able to think of that in this moment. Every step feels as if she will topple over. Her chest feels as if a fire blazed within.

_‘Can’t breathe! Can’t breathe!’_ A sudden rough surface hits the side of her body causes a sharp turn of the witcher’s head. Realizing she toppled into a tree, her knees give out and the witcher’s body leans forward. The burning sensation within her chest only intensified as bitter taste hits the back of her throat. The next few sounds from the witcher can be only described as pitiful. Anything else that came out of Dessi, was yellow bile and spit, which soon was mixed with snot that started to run from her nose. Heavy breathing forced itself in and out as the witcher forces some semblance of control for the moment before a hand raises to grasp the trunk of the tree to haul Dessi up. For a moment, nothing moved among her body, her body loose as her expression. Her face did not speak of any emotions nor her eyes truly grasping what is in front of them. Soft air flowed in and out of the witcher and her feet stayed their firmly planted spot. Neither a twitch of muscle nor a cock of the head was made when hoofed steps closed in. It was when Miss Indi gave a nudge against Dessi’s side that her mind truly came to focus on what is actually around her. The worried nicker and gentle lipping at the side of Dessi’s tunic brought her to turn to her mare and brown, steady eyes met wide gold cat eyes.

“Just a dream Missy,” the words whoosh out her mouth before pulling her lips into a forced, brave, grin, “Dreams ain’t real. They can’t hurt. That would be silly if they did.” The ears on the mare flatten against her head and a very pronounced stop with her front hoof gave the witcher the answer to her statement. Dessi couldn’t help but roll her eyes before pulling Miss Indi’s head against her chest and plants a string of kisses across the horse’s forehead.

“Oh hush and let me cling to false hopes will ya?” The chuckle comes out bitter and is followed by a sigh. Looking up, she realizes that the sun has been up fully for at least a couple hours and her face pinches into a grimace, “Time wasted.”

In moments any items that were on the forest floor were restored to their proper positions among both horse and witcher. Dessi looks to up through the trees into the sky with contemplation. A small breeze pushes around her, westbound she notices. A noise comes from the back of her throat which is then followed by a shrug. She only pats the side of her thigh once to cue Indi to follow as she decides to leave the fate of her destination to the wind.

Hours pass with no real decisive thought to where the witcher goes, just as long as she doesn’t have to travel through any villages. Though some extra coin wouldn’t hurt with how worn all the bags have become; the saddle itself being repaired by shoddy stitching from the witcher’s hands causes Dessi to thin her lips. Gurgling from her stomach only twist her lips into a frown as she glanced down at her person, the expression turns quickly to a grimace. She would surely be one hell of a shitty sight if anyone was to see her now. Most of her leather tunic has been re-stitched thrice over and honestly looks to be on its last legs of life. Idly, she remembers a time when her frame used to fill the tunic more and when there was an actual bed to sleep on. Only a sigh from her nose gives any voice to the situation. She reaches into one of the bags tide to the saddle and pulls for the left over rabbit. Lips twitch upwards at what little is left of the roasted meat, as the rabbit in life, also did not fare much better than that the witcher in terms of their weight.

Continuing her trek, slim fingers pick at the morsel and unlike yesterday, the sun truly shined without any hindrance in the cloudless sky. The warmth felt nice from the rays and a thought of being wrapped up in numerous pelts in some small niche gives Dessi a flutter of warmth about her.

_‘If only,’_ she mused in her mind. The walk was continued in silence till the trees gave way to a small clearing. _‘Maybe camp here?’_

The question was halted when a further look revealed that the spot was only recently unoccupied. She reaches back to pat Miss Indi’s chest to give halt before crouching down closer to the earth. Foot prints, human, and large ones in fact littered across the opening. Analytic eyes narrowed in inspection.

_‘Eight to ten. Men. Depth indicates some are wearing heavy armor.’_ Rising up she takes a circle around the opening. _‘Two straight lines mean they have a wagon. Width between wheels means it is small one and likely pulled by a mule.’_ Dessi looks up once again with the side of her lower lip pulled in as she chews on it _. ‘A small path between the trees. They travelled mostly single filed and with only two other set of hoof prints. Two horses and they are heading northwest. Now is there a village nearby and these men are simply taking a shortcut, or a band of bandits moving locations?’_

One hand crosses over to grasp the other giving small squeezes while she thinks. _‘I should still have something like fifty crowns on me. Even if they are bandits, they may still trade.’_ Saliva builds in her mouth and a growl grows from Dessi’s stomach _. ‘Maybe they have a camp nearby with something warm they just might share. Stew..stew would be so good right now.’_

The witcher growls a stop to the thoughts _, ‘look at me. I look like shit and their first thought would be, easy pickins, and shit.’_ Her one hand grips painfully in a twist at the other fingers and she gives a harsh clench with her teeth on the part of the lip she worried on _. ‘Fuck, fine. Follow and watch. Slip in at night and take only what I need. No talking. No interacting, which means no fighting which means no wasted energy. See, rational decision.’_

Though with even a plan of action, frustration seemed to keep its hold over Dessi even when she relents her grip over her fingers and albeit more heavily than necessary, steps towards the patiently waiting mare. A short quick tug at the reigns cues the horse to follow without complaint and both witcher and mare follow the trail left before them. 

As they continued further down the path, the tracks of the horses being led by the band nags to Dessi. They seem to, at every odd distance, pause or even that it seem the horses tried to back step away from the men. Her pace slows but doesn’t stop at the unusual evidence of what, she can’t figure out. Fifty more paces on the trail she entirely freezes at the shrill that pierces the air. Axii is quickly formed to push Indi to hide off the trail away from the noise as Dessi slips into the brush towards the cry.

Through the brush she makes out the group of armed men, though what interested her was that a portion of them huddled beside the small cart. Jeers and bellows of laughter came from them as did small cries when one would thrust a kick to whatever lays center of the crowding men. From the low brushes she could not see exactly what so Dessi back tracks her steps and quickly makes a jump upwards to a thick branch followed by pulling herself up. Satisfied with her position she resumes her examination.

Another sharp cry and Dessi’s gut gives a strange harsh pull and her muscles twitch about her body. Whatever these armed men are tormenting, the pitiful shrieks made itself known that it is young and very much undeserving of the savage treatment. She does not take the moment to reflect as to why the cries creates knots in her stomach nor the lump forming in the back of her throat, or even the way her chest pulls in reply to the feeble noises. A thrum buzzes through Dessi and her lips pull back, sharp teeth are then bared. Her mind turns hazy from the thrall of sudden intense emotions. Hands ball up tightly as her nails dig relentlessly into her palm for a moment before she forcibly loosened them. She inhales slowly through her nose, her shoulders raise in sync. An exhale forces her shoulders to drop. Grabbing the bark of one of the branches, she lowers herself to the ground without sound.

_‘Don’t let all your cards show’,_ a lesson from a mentor long past comes to her mind, ‘ _give just enough to draw your quarry into a position that provides the most beneficial opportunity to yourself.’_

The words force to ease the stiffness about her body. Back straitened and shoulders relax, Des pulls her lips upward. A casual smile can be the best tool to use to delay and spilling of blood and to also have your intended quarry to give information they may have not said otherwise.

She glides between the trees to the opening of the encampment and begins her first few steps with a saunter, hands on hips; she chooses one of the men to keep her eyes on. Dessi’s entrance, of course, does not go unnoticed by all the men. Some of them have deemed other things more important than to besides torture the poor soul… _souls?_ One cry of the creature was quickly joined by another when one of the men in the crowded circle gave another kick. The rowdy laughter only grew louder.

“Oi, look at this freak show,” the man, the very one she chose to first keep her eyes on, who has the two long scars wrapping around the side of his head, announces from where he sat, leaning forward on his mace that was planted before him. His eyes roams from Dessi’s face to along her body before raising his eyes to golden ones, “Didn’t know whores can be witchers.”

“The fuck she come from, eh?” another man quickly pulls away from the huddled group, drawing a sword. The announcement of Dessi’s entrance seemed to draw all of them out of their choice of merrymaking. Some have which chose to sneer and grab the nearest weapons to them. Dessi’s eyes truly crinkled out of amusement at the action. Others, whether to try to look genuinely curious or just plain ignorant to the obvious possible danger, just gawked.

For a moment, all was still, but Des could clearly hear the rapid heartbeats of these men, like a warren of rabbits exposed suddenly to a predator. A sour smell permeates the air. ‘ _Fear’,_ the thought flitters across her mind. The mere realization of the smell raises bumps across her skin, jolts throughout her own body. Dessi’s own heart picks up slightly but for a completely different reason.

Upturned lips part, reveal only the top set of her teeth, all to be sharp and some to be considered fang like, “Well, well,” her voice low and drawling, “What kind of entertainment do we have here, boys?”

“Fuck is it to you freak?” the one who first brandishes the sword waves the blade in Dessi's direction.

“Tsk, tsk, such hostility,” Dessi chides back like one would to a child and then adds a sneer with her next words, “What would mommy say to all this name calling? I like to have fun too.”

"Calm down Hans," Two scars, as Dessi dubs him, interrupts, "Can't you see we have a monster slayer?" though he says the title with a bit of a jeer. Two scars looks back at her, "There is no monster here to slay. My boys are just having some rightful retribution with a side of fun."

The witcher hums as she cranes her head to try to see what is the receiving end of the 'retribution' they wholly believe in giving. It ends in vain when She only can make out a lump in the center of the men near the cart. "I don't believe when you say there are no monsters about. Mind explaining your retribution to this lowly witcher?"

"Its fucking payback for the vampire bitch that killed my brother you moron," Hans nearly screeches out, "the hell you need a reason to kill them? they just mindl--"

"Another word and it will be your last Hans," Two scars interrupts again before returning his conversation to Dessi, "See? nothing to get involved in, so just keep on going wherever you were going."

Chills race around Dessi's skin as she starts to piece together the information, "Are those her pups?"

An odd sick feeling crept through her body and she can't place why the thought of these pups, though being vampires, are making such intense reactions in her. The witcher's mind raced with the need to stop the torture. Her vision began to tunnel in as her focus now only can grab a single person at a time.

Dessi must of made some sort of expression for the Hans guy to pipe up again, "Is that freakin pitty?! are you a monster slayer or a monster fuc-"

The sentence interrupts with a blade flung, striking true into the man’s throat. Dessi's entire posture changes as she grins widely. It is followed out by her chuckling out rather darkly, “I think I’ll have my kind of fun now.”

Two scar was the quickest to react out of the band, flinging his body forward and using his momentum to swing the weapon overhead and down at Dessi. His reaction speed may have been even impressive but the witcher cuts forward at an angle and shifts her body perpendicular. The mace only hits air in front of Dessi before she shifts again to face the man. In the motion she crosses her open palm upward from her waist and slams underneath his jaw. Teeth crack each other and the force knocks him down flat.

Bow strings to her left flank alert her to the arrows that are readying for their release. The already raised palm grabs and unsheathes the steel on her back. Swinging her rear leg forward, she twists her body and pushes off the ground in a twirl. The action leads for one of the arrows to only glide past where her hips once been. The other is reflected by the drawn sword and shoots back to the one who missed. It sinks center of his chest.

The area fills with shouts that only rang distantly in the ears of the witcher who lands with her back to the majority of the band. The adrenaline fuels a loud laugh out of Dessi, as she relishes at its release. Twisting her body once more she bolts into the bulk of group, a smile not once leaving her face. 

The aftermath becomes devoid of its recent shouts, screams, dying gurgles. Dessi remains last to stand and through hazy eyes, she takes inventory of who lost what limb and who lay with their disemboweled innards strewn about. Her heart thudded in her ears and a lazy grin continues to hold its place. A weak trill forces Dessi to blink herself fully into the moment. She shifts towards the sound that seemed to emit from underneath a toppled crate. Her movement forward to the root of her curiosity becomes interrupted from a cough.

_‘Ah, I forgot him.’_ She tsks herself and sheaths her sword. The man she initially kept her eyes on in the beginning of the situation lets out half a groan before it turns to choked grunt when Dessi plops across his chest, pinning his arms to the ground with her knees.

“Now where do you think you are going?” Dessi coyly purrs out. The man attempts to twist his body and looks to see if his men are still alive. The witcher gives a faux pout when the man finds the answer, “aww, I don’t think your friends are going to be able to help you anymore.” She pauses a moment and returns to grinning, “Are your sad?”

His voice comes out in harsh rasps, “Are you fucking demented?” he attempts to force some air back in him before starting again, “Witchers kill monsters *cough* why?”

“Why?” Dessi intones with innocents, “well those wee baby vampires have done nothing wrong. They certainly don’t seem like monsters to me.” Her hands move to cradle the sides of his face, “For you and me on the other hand is a far different story.”

Her thumbs trace underneath his eyes mockingly like a lover’s caress. The man does not say more but stares into the madness of cat eyes. What more can he say when he understands these are his last moments.

The witcher returns the eye contact and her expression softens, “Don’t you know, monsters destroy other monsters,” The next moment she ploughs her thumbs into his eyes sockets and screams wretch from his throat. She continues to press further into his skull, digging at everything inside till all was silent once more.

She leans back and stares down at her work. The world feels all afloat again. An escape from all things real, she relishes it. A sound of movement snaps her focus back to reality and she looks back to the toppled crate. Standing, albeit shakily, she moves forward before kneeling back down in front of the toppled crate followed by slow moving hands, the crate is lifted and moved to the side. Her mouth parts as she breathes in sharply. For once during the ordeal, her expression turned genuinely caring.

Covered in dust and scrapes, two sets of wide black eyes stare back. None of the members in the interaction made noise. It was the smallest of the pair that first slowly reached forward with a paw towards Dessi as if questioning her. A harsh lump gathers in her throat and the corners of her eyes burned. With a flick of her hand she swings her medallion over her shoulder to rest on her back before reaching out slowly to gather the pups onto her blood covered lap. Neither noised a complaint though that did not comfort her due to it possibly stemming from them giving up calling for help. Dessi has been lost many times in life but she has to mark this one to being the most jarring when she finds herself having custody of two ekimmara pups.

“Fuck”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any grammatical errors made were made from a muddled and tired author who just wants to sleep but can't


	3. The encounter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having to suddenly care for more than herself and Indi, Dessi finds herself even more lost in her wayward journey. But, alas, it is expected when you have to care for two lost souls who have no way to survive on their own. In desperate hopes that the mother of the pups may still be alive, the witcher searches for a more sturdy shelter to take root in close enough to the former camp of bandits. In an even more deluded hope that if the mother shows, she will simply take her pups and go with no need to involve any silver. But honestly, when does anything go as one hopes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canon character appearance  
> Warnings:  
> Language  
> poor attempt to incite ones death

In the end of hell of a mess Dessi got herself into, she finds herself finishing up piling up the bodies and casting igni to burn them. The camp itself, picked through for anything she believes to be needed, and all the while, she does so with her two new little balls of fur tucked inside her tunic. Her medallion finds its new purchase with it being tied to her belt as she hopes it is far out enough reach for curious minds. The sharp whistle Dessi let out earlier gave way to faint trotting till a familiar mare appears.

Indi continues forward to the witcher, ears flickering back and forth, keeping high as she slows her pace the closer she gets to Dessi. A whicker blows out of the mare in question and Dessi can only think of the interpretation to be along the lines of ‘what did you do now?’

“Well as you can see,” one hand waves haphazardly around as Indi pulls to a stop in front of Dessi, “shit got fucked as usual. Guess I decided that I didn’t like these guys and now they are dead.” Her raised hand moves to gripping the hair on her head, “well not that I didn’t like them but they pissed me off.”

A forced smile that came out more as a grimace grew on the witcher’s face. The expression was followed by Dessi saying, “You see, what had happened. I, um, got a bit mad that they were hurting something. Well two somethings and it just happened.” She takes a pause while looking at Miss Indi. Anyone else seeing this would think the behavior of the witcher was akin to a child caught taking a cookie.

“Now we find ourselves having to take care of not one,” she pulls her tunic to one side revealing one small mass of black fur that gave discontent to the sudden light before Dessi covers the little one back up only to open the other side of her tunic to reveal the second ball of fur that simply whined, “but two vampire babies and I don’t think I can just leave them.”

Whether Indi was simply hungry or just done with the situation, she brushes past the witcher to the nearest past of grass and starts to graze. Dessi shrugs at Indi’s response but in the end, she is grateful that her only companion doesn’t judge the witcher for her actions. Looking back down to her tunic, she couldn’t help but pull it open again to gaze at the little uns. A warm pull in her body creates conflicting emotions in Dessi but in the end she gives in and reaches to rub one of the furry backs of the pups. Earlier when she first put the little ones in their current position, she concludes that baby vampire fur is indeed very soft. The smaller of the duo sighs out contently at the contact of her gentle hand. Probably in relief that in the moment the witcher does not hold the same intentions of the recently fallen men. During the small petting from the witcher, the slightly larger pup, which also from earlier examination determines to be female, shifts closer to her smaller brother to grasp around him and sniff around the boy’s neck. Seemingly satisfied they both cling tighter to Dessi’s undershirt and still once more.

‘ _Poor little uns probably all tired,’_ The witcher smiles at the interaction of the two and closes up the tunic again before gathering all of her new odds and end items she picked around. She hauls the bags towards her four legged friend along with a saddle she stripped from one of the horses. She had them stripped of their gear before sending them off into the woods after the fight and decided that a new, well newish saddle is in order for Indi.

Unbuckling the poor excuse of a saddle, Dessi switches it with another. Indi barley fidgets at the change whiles she continues to eat. A thick patch of clovers holds priority over the new gear for the time being. Once the witcher has all what she needs strapped up, she makes her way in front of the mare, giving well deserved rubs on the side of her neck.

“K, so I have a plan,” Dessi starts, waiting for Indi to look up, “Since I never really found out if those shits killed the mother and with knowing that ekimmara tend to be in packs. We, uh, find somewhere to camp nearby but not too close and maybe, just maybe, wait to see if big mama or friends come searching for these darlings and we, I mean I, just dump them for the vampires to find?”

Dessi waits for any signs from her friend to comment when Indi gives a soft snort, “Yeah, yeah not crazy right? I mean it’ll work out, right? Of course it’s going to work out and I’m totally not making some insane plan that might get us killed cause it’s going to work…Right?”

If Indi’s tail giving a sharp swish was any indication of disapproval, Dessi chose to ignore it, “When this works, and it will work, I promise we will find the nearest village and get you in a nice stable with yummy hay and I’ll buy all the apples you want. I’ll even take any contract in the area and buy some nice stuff for us. You know like an even better saddle, ooh, or even for me a coat! A nice warm cozy coat!”

Dessi tugs on her friend’s reigns as the move forward back into the forest while quietly muttering to herself, “We are bound to have one thing go our way. This is going to work.”

The sun was making its way to its decent and Dessi finds her frustration ever growing as she feels her body tire from the events of the day. Displeased by the lack of shelter she has yet to find, the witcher found herself returning to the bandit camp a couple of times to then take off in a different direction in her search. She knows that not only she but Indi and the pups are also growing in frustration with her. Though the pups are more likely frustrated by the lack of substance when during her search sharp pinches on her breast and two upset trills causes her to quickly to open her tunic and find them attempting to nurse from the witcher. With nothing to really be done for them at the moment, Dessi lets them continue their vain attempts. It’s not that she ever wanted to have children but the reminder of not being able to sometimes cast a rather morose and bitter state in her. Any further thoughts on the matter were knocked out of her quite literally when Miss Indi butts by her into a trot further in the forest.

Albeit startled, Dessi called out, “Indi, the hell you going?!?”

As the mare sometimes has done in the past, Indi ignores the witcher. Leaving no choice, Dessi begins to jog after her headstrong friend. When she finally catches up she finds the horse has found her desired destination, a creek that flowed around a rocky bend. With a huff, Dessi thought about chastising the bull-headed mare when she caught something from the corner of her eye.

“your shitting me,” whispering under her breath, Dezzi couldn’t help but grin. Within the side of the rocks that sided the small hill, an opening was set low to the ground and with further inspection it revealed it went back four feet and had a couple feet in height between the top of the little niche and the ground, “Indi, I love you.”

Dessi wasted no time in stripping the bags and saddle off of Indi and chucks all the pelts that were wrapped up into the den. Crawling in, she makes work to set up a couple layers on the ground and shifts the rest to the side. Something about the sight of the pelts though, held an unfinished feeling in the witcher. It prompted her to shift around the pelts as she fussed about until she happened to shift a corner section of fur up that looks to be bordering wall-like. Curiously, a part of her begins to feel a form of satisfaction. Hanging on to the feeling, she goes about and mimics the edges around to be the same. A smile pulled at her face but was interrupted by a sudden curse slipping from the witcher.

“Hold on, jeez,” she grumbled to her tunic due to sharp nips from the pups. She unties the fastens of her tunic and the buckles of the harness holding her swords all but throwing them back behind her. The sudden exposure filled the den with offended squeals, “I said hold on! And stop trying to nurse from me dammit!” Dessi grabs the little boy first, lifting him up face level, the boy fits about, “hey, shhh, shhh, its fine. I’m making a bed for us three. A nice warm bed.” She rubs her thumbs over his chest as she coos softly. Though when one thumb goes down the boy lets out a pitiful whine. Frowning she looks closer at the fur on his side. It appeared matted and with a slower brush over with her thumb gives way to some swelling underneath. Dessi brings the boy closer and sniffs the area.

 _‘vampire blood’_ was the first thought, _‘no his blood._ ’ Somewhere during the abuse, one of the kicks must have managed to tear skin. Teeth clench the inside of Dessi’s cheek and slowed, forced, breathing through the nose gives way to the witcher’s growing ire. Her focus shifts back to the boy’s eyes and her own furrow. The pup stopped its whimpers and had turned patient under Dessi’s inspection. Her eyes held transfixed to wide, but strangely knowing, black ones. Thoughts moved through the witcher’s mind, ‘Do _they truly know that I’m trying to help them. Just look how they focus. They could have squealed their heads off during the whole time we were searching, but no, everything was minimal.’_ She felt herself blink a couple times rather quickly. _‘Do they actually understand this whole ordeal? They shouldn’t, they are just babies…’_ Dessi finds it rather hard to breath but she refuses to think about how her throat seems to be closing up. ‘ _Babies don’t think of who will hurt them and who won’t. It should be universal that they all get to do baby stuff, ya know, make baby noises, eat, shit, sleep and not think survival..’_ sniffling somewhat pulls her out of her thoughts for a fleeting moment but the stinging in her eyes pushes Dessi back in.

 _‘Little babies and kids shouldn’t have to go through being taken and hurt. No matter what they are,’_ the heat in the Witcher’s face and her breathing becomes a bit shaky. It only grew worse when trails of something wet were felt on Dessi’s face.

“Don’t we deserve a home?” A broken gasp falls out of her at the realization that she uttered the last part out loud and yet, through the spiral of those thoughts, the pups remained quiet. The revelation brought Dessi to quickly depositing the pups on the furs and taking the extra ones that lay aside to tuck around them before she quickly scrambled out of the too warm den. The witcher throws herself to work, digging a spot to build a campfire, grabbing a tin pot from her belongings to fill with water and worked to warm the water up. After, she fishes out several pieces of rags and chooses the one that seemed the least dirty. Dessi dips her finger in the warming water to see if it was not too hot. Concluding that it should be fine, she dips into her den to carry out the weary pups before sitting close the fire. The witcher places the little girl on a pelt beside her as she places the boy in her lap. Soaking the rag and wringing out the excess water, she works to clean matted fur and grimy skin. Gingerly she dabs over any and all small cuts and swellings. When she feels she has gotten what she can, Dessi works to use part of the pelt set aside to swaddle the boy.

“You know, I shouldn’t give names since I know, really, really, know that your mommy will find you,” a pause, “but if I was to call you anything besides thinking you as just Boy, I think Tino would be a nice name for you.” Dessi rubs her fingers under Tino’s chin and follows with tracing his ear, which to Dessi, seemed just a bit too big for his head. Her chest felt a bit lighter when he returns a purr. “Yeah, Tino is good. And you missy,” she turns to pick up the slightly larger girl. Same black fur, yet she had a bit of a rusty color center of her chest compared to the solid black of her brother, “I think of you as Talli.”

Dessi dips the rag back into the warm water and repeats the process of cleaning Talli, “Talli, darling, you have a bit more scuffs on you. I have to guess you were being the good big sister you are and tried to protect lil Tino, huh,” her soften voice is returned by a series of chirps. Dessi couldn’t help with the bubble of laughter that came out, “yeah, you are brave and sweet. That’s a rare combination these days.”

To her own surprise, when she finished wiping Talli, she brings the pup close and plants a soft kiss on Talli’s face. Talli, in turn, lets out a small series of chitters. Chuckling to herself she wraps up the sister with Tino and pulls them both up close to her face and repeats a string of kisses on both of them. Something, Dessi believed to be true laughter, bubbled from her gut as both pups squirm in retaliation and attempt to flick their tongues out to catch the flutter of kisses. The rather loud squeaks drew Miss Indi from her evening snack to walk over to the fussing squeaks and kisses. Dessi takes pause at Indi’s approach and gives a wide smile to the mare. The deep lines around the witcher’s eyes gave way to genuine joy, a rare look to see of her lately.

“You have to admit, they are unfairly cute.” Dessi leans to give Indi a better look. The mare, either from nerves being culled by violence and beasts or possibly by the fact she knew the pups are no threat, leaned down and lipped atop their heads. Both ekimmara let out squeaks and the reaction of Talli busted Dessi fully into laughter as the pup managed to free her limbs and grasp the mare’s muzzle, landing successful licks to Indi’s nose. The action must have tickled as Indi jerked back suddenly and gave of a loud sneeze and projected some snot onto the witcher, “hehe, ew Indie! Don’t get the pups messy after I cleaned them.”

Laughter continued to flow out of Dessi along side with the pups chittering and whirs when Miss Indi’s ears flew flat on her head and reared abruptly. The light mood turns sharply cold in the witcher with the recognition of the behavior and nauseating dread prickled at the sudden appearance of red black mist shot around the trees. The thought of foglets was thrown out the window when an apparition starts to form with a snarled voice.

“Witche-“ whatever it was did not have time to finish its words or fully take solid shape when Dezzi flung an aard at it whilst rolling back towards the den, pushing the pups in and blindly grabbing her silver. The witcher twists and shoots upwards to stand, sword raised and pointed forward. The other hand flung to the front of her chest readying for her quen. During her flurry of movement, a sudden force slams her back into the rock wall, knocking the wind from her. A _hand?_ Pins the wrist with her sword back into the rock along with her body while another pins the other hand to her chest ceasing any ability to create a sign. It was followed by a rather large body that used its weight to lean into Dessi as it formed into-

_‘Man?’_

That thought was also thrown out as her focus reveals a sharp bestial face framed by untamed black silver curls that held even sharper fangs. Perhaps the most startling look was the fierce blue eyes that bore unto her own cat ones. The growl followed by a voice, deep and literally was felt rumbling from his chest yanked Dessi from her observation.

“You will release th-“  
“HURT THEM,” She interrupts, not caring to hear out the creature with her own growl, “and I’ll fucking end you!”

She didn’t look to see the reaction as Dessi yanks her body in desperation to create space. It proved as futile as to trying to arm wrestle a Cyclops. Dessi hisses out her frustration when a softer and stern human voice began.

“Explain,” she jerks her head up and her jaws slacked in surprise. Whoever he is, he turned his form more human. Irritation sprung as she picks up on his gaunt demeanor of sunken cheeks and dark circles under his eyes. He looked like shit yet somehow can pin her. She used that irritation in her voice.

“I really hate repeating myself.” Dessi’s voice a low hiss, “I don’t give a shit if you shish kebab me or fuck what, but hurt my pups or horse and I will fucking end you.” The last five words she made sure to place a pause between them to emphasis her point. They pause as both unblinkingly locked their eyes at each other. In Dessi’s mind she attempts to calculate her holder’s thoughts as his brows furrow. Each possible outcome she tried to predict was halted with his next words.

“You protect them?”

A pause as she breathes in before carefully choosing her next words, “Yes.” The widening of his eyes prompted her to continue. “Bandits were hurting them so I killed the whorsons and took them both. I intend to find their mother to return them. I slay monsters, not children; no matter the species. So if you feel inclined to maim and or kill still then let it just be me.”

If there was any indication that she wasn’t going to immediately die, it would be from the man letting off his weight even if it was just a fraction of it. Dessi felt a childish smugness grow when he was first to blink in the stare off and from what she gathered from him opening his mouth then closing it, was that he is not often lost for words, though after a moment he seemed to find them.

“You speak true,” a part of his voice sounds with relief and he follows with startling softness, “I won’t hurt you or your companions, witcher.” He leans off of enough for Dessi to take her first real breath in the stand-off. Worried trills pull his focus at the low entrance of the den and Dessi’s sword arm gives a twitch in his grasp. The movement turns him to look at the witcher. He leans back into her but keeping his weight mostly off of Dessi, leveling his eyes as to put emphasis in his words, “I swear to you, no harm will come from me.”

To add to his words, He backed away several steps with his hands raised in front of him. Dessi takes the distance to take inventory of his appearance. _‘still looks like shit,’_ she confirms her earlier notion of his looks. A long, possibly tan, but too dirty to tell, shirt hung loosely on him with small tears about the fabric. It was matched with what she thinks to be dark gray trousers though after the sun set it proved to be a bit difficult to know the exact shade.

Testing his words, Dessi kneels to the ground but keeps her sword in hand. While lowered she glimpses in the den to the two huddled pups who stare back. Talli gives a soft chirp before turning herself to groom Tino. Satisfied with that, Dessi returns her attention to the man. He kept his pose during the while. His eyes gave way to a more studying look than the earlier fierceness. The witcher continues to test the water and shifts to fully sit on the dirt and lowered her blade to the ground but did not let the hilt fully out of her grasp.

Taking it as a sign, the man also lowered himself down to the ground. In return Dessi retracts her hand from her hilt and folds both in her lap. He furthers his passiveness with a steady slump of his shoulders. Neither spoke, in Dessi’s case her worn mind just couldn’t find what to say, him on the other hand she couldn’t tell.

Hoof steps brought her mind back to Indi, as the mare decided she is done with the tension. A small shock and wonder came through Dessi as her friend did not move towards her but to the other and presses her muzzle to the man’s shoulder. He, himself, gave way to a wide, awed look to Indi before he tentatively raised his hand in a soft caress on Indi’s snout.

Feeling a bit brave, or possibly overly tired, as her body and mind felt numbingly shaken, Dessi pops the question that may already have an answer “are you a vampire?” He only looks back and gives a nod, “What kind? If you don’t mind me asking, you don’t seem to be a katakan.”

“I am what you witchers call a true higher vampire,” he answers slowley as if the reveal would give fright.

“Huh” it was all that came out of Dessi in a bit of disbelief. To her mind, she only knew stories from other witchers that if any hunters were to cross one tend to not live afterwards.

His demeanor turns into a downed look as he continued, “your wait for the mother is in vain. In her travel, she was discovered by those men you killed,” Dessi takes notes at the regret that builds in his voice, “Already weakened from birthing the two you now protect and from her own health waning proved to be too much for her as she was murdered.” He takes a pause in looking down, away from Dessi she notes, “she was bound to where I currently reside with my other lesser kin. To seek safety… I was too late.”

“Fuck,” the witcher breathes out. The news gave way to a sick heavy feel over her body and nausea from not eating, gnaws in her throat. “I’m sorry…for your loss.” the latter response given to relate with the vampire as she begins attempting to move towards him, “I know what that guilt is like.”

Wobbling to stand, sword left discarded on the ground, she takes a step forward. The regret was immediate when her world spun. As everything darkened, she wondered to why her face planting didn't come to pass. Dessi tries to focus but she only manages to grasp on to blue eyes before everything faded to nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pretty sure everyone can guess the identity of the vampire. But hey guys! Local frazzled hermit witcher meets local scruffy hermit vampire. Now local tired hermit author yeets to her bed.


	4. Something Broken, Something Moved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back tracking into Dettlaff's POV, a glimpse reveals some of the history of after the Night of the Long Fang. That glimpse is quickly turned to how the vampire came upon the witcher's trail and his perspective of the monster slayer who instead saved the lives she has been created to destroy. During the time Dessi is unconscious, Dettlaff makes a choice that has the possibility to drastically change all the lives in the wayward camp of the witcher.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings:  
> Attempts of suicide  
> gore  
> foul language  
> self harm  
> purposeful starvation

Nothing can be more abyssal than the depth of hollowness Dettlaff carries within. Months following the night of the carnage he wrought over the woman he desperately sought answers from left an empty ache in his chest. One he tried and knowingly failed to create physically in order to equal his mental despair. But every attempt of his torn out heart only leaves him shamefully weak when his own body continued to regenerate, despite his hopeless wishes. In the end, he had forgone his attempts to searching a place to go to ground yet he finds himself sheltering in an abandon mining village. Within the caves he tends to his lesser kin who gather to winter in the approaching cold. In the recent days, Dettlaff was expecting for a new arrival of an ekimma that was in search of safety to bear her pups. Readying himself to take off to meet his new pack member, Dettlaff exits the cave system into the village but was hit by a panicked presence from beyond his territory. Immediately, he knew the caller and knew her message

_:Pups now, men follow. They hunt us!:_

Dettlaff shouts a roar, shifting his form from bestial humanoid to a large winged beast; he takes off flying towards the direction. Even with the growing rage that flames within consuming most of his mind, Dettlaff mentally lashes at himself for not leaving sooner. Every flap of his wings brings sharp aching pain that radiates across him. An ever moment the pain jolts through him reminds Dettlaff of how weak he has become due to lashing constant self torture he inflicts. _‘A weakness,’_ the vampire internally snarls bitterly, _‘a possible costly weakness.’_ He feels the fear in his kin, hears her cry. It is added on with flashes of pain in the presence she pulses out. _‘I left her helpless,’_ trills of anguish calls out from his core, _‘you are too far out. I left too late.’_ Her calls begin to wane and he can feel her last thoughts, ‘ _my pups, my pups, let th-‘_ Silence. It was more deafening than pained roar let out by the vampire.

His landing was not stumbled, nor was he trembling over the mutilated corpse of the would be mother. The gruesome sight laid bare to her gut disemboweled and head removed and piked on a shaft near side. He felt his bestial form slip away to more human as his knees fell to earth. A shaking had reached out to limp ones as he leaned over from the grief that overcame his being. Only one man’s prone body was solid evidence that humans will always kill what they don’t understand. Dettlaff leans back up and turns to survey the area. He needed to find the rest of who did this. He needed to slaughter them as they had done one of his. Tuning into his keen senses he takes note of the surrounding scents. The sharpest scent was the blood spilt from the ekimma and man, followed by dirt but somewhere another scent pulled him to a spot near the stump of the tree. A mass of fluids and tissue laid and with an alarming jolt he realized it was the placenta from the mother. Frantically he searched to find the bodies of the pups only to avail their remains were not present.

Blood drained from his face from the conclusion he determined that the men took them. Whether they are alive or not, he refuses to let them have them. A new surge of energy waves through in putting efforts to finding the direction the men went. Tracks gave way through the brush and he pursued with haste.

The carnage that Dettlaff came upon was not he could expect. A camp with a pile of bodies, all burned. Whoever came before took to work with their gear and left with what satisfied them. The vampire takes his time to crouch in several areas. Splatter patterns of blood filled his nose with those of the men laid burned but a more potent smell rose above. His mouth parts to take taste of the scent. Thick with adrenaline, spiced with magic and a tang he only tasted once before. That one time was those months ago when he took charge at the infamous White Wolf. The very witcher who, as his blood brother pinned Dettlaff with fangs tearing into his neck draining him, spoke words that pulled Dettlaff out of his rage. Any further thoughts he shook out. _‘That doesn’t matter. What does is that a witcher was here. This witcher killed these men, but what of the pups?’_ short of leaping up, Dettlaff shifts his focus to an abandon cart. Sifting through the mess of items, he picked up on the scent of traces of ekimmara blood. The smell, soft, with taints of stress, _‘they were wounded,’_ A hiss comes out _, ‘they are not here! The witcher took them!’_ Boiling with fury at the unknown possibilities that may have happened to the newborns, places a fierce frenzy to holding the witcher’s scent as he pushes his thoughts to one goal.

The trail, as he found, proved to be irritating. The witcher had seemed to back track multiple times to the former camp before setting out in another direction. The sun was making its descend as he followed another trail left by the monster slayer and despite the death Dettlaff has seen today, he hopes that these pups are alive and the witcher has yet to harm them. But hopes like that in his life rarely come true. As if someone created to slaughter his kin would actually take in two lost pups out of the kindness of their own hearts.

Growing darker, the vampire’s naïve hop wanes when, until somehow the world relented on his fruitless search, distant squeals that he knew by heart what they would belong to. Shifting into mist he darts through the trees to where Dettlaff will find his answers. As he grew closer, the scent of the witcher grows stronger and focuses solely onto that and not registering to the laughter that danced out of the small camp. Dettlaff finally lays sight upon them, seeing the witcher holds, the thankfully still living pups.

Without much more thought he sifts through as mist, his voice comes out as a low grow, “Witche-“

Sudden force disperses his semi corporeal form before he could finish. Gathering himself he lunges as he solidifies. With this time, Dettlaff knew somewhat to expect of how witchers would counter react. Using his size to slam into the slayer and pinning _, her?_ To the outcrop of the rocks. The vampire shakes his head, it does not matter whether the witcher is man or woman, he lets out another rumble, “You will release th-“

“HURT THEM!” the interruption pauses the vampire with surprise with not only with the statement, but the inhuman snarl, “and I’ll fucking end you.”

Even with the surprise she had dealt Dettlaff, his body remained iron vise as she decides to jerk her body in attempts to escape. _‘She means them no harm?_ ’ he blinked with tense curiosity and feels his features smoothen to his more human appearance.

Firmly he demands, “Explain.”

Sharply looking back to face Dettlaff, he sees her pause as the witcher examines him. What he could describe from her expression was hostile annoyance, “I really hate repeating myself,” he notes that through her hiss of her words, the witcher’s lips pull back to bare sharp teeth, as if in a manner of a beast trying to size back a predator, “I don’t give a shit if you shish kebab me or fuck what, but hurt my pups or horse and I will fucking end you.” The punctuations of the last several words may have been her ending point to his relent but it was the words leading to them that set a torrent of confusion and heaviness in Dettlaff’s heart. His brows pinch together; her words ring hauntingly similar to certain white wolf.

Letting all of his hostile tones out to something more even, “You protect them?”

The break between his question and the witcher’s answer allowed Dettlaff a small chance to examine those gold slitted eyes; they held emotions that he thought was best to not decipher when she spoke up again with less venom, “yes,” unexpected, his brows raise, “Bandits were hurting them so I killed the whorsons and took them both. I intend to find their mother to return them. I slay monsters, not children; no matter the species. So if you feel inclined to maim and or kill still then let it just be me.”

The recoil of her words had Dettlaff lean back off her as his jaw slacks in search for words. Blinking all the while, her words struck a profound pull that seemed to resonate in his body. _‘My pups,’_ the words gave certainty that this monster slayer does care for their lives. The absolute tone that came from her that this witcher would indeed follow through if it came to brought a hush tone in Dettlaff’s next statement.

“You speak true,” the tension he held for a fight eased away, “I won’t hurt your or your companions, witcher.” Dettlaff lets of the pressure on her as she sucks air in her body. The sole objective of his constant searching was brought to looking downward at the worried cries of the young ones. Immediate tension in the witcher’s sword arm and Dettlaff gives attention back to the woman. He moves with lessened weight against her and hunches down to become eye level, hoping she will heed his words, “I swear to you, no harm will come from me.”

Similar to what he has done to calm any of his wounded kin that are too wounded or riled up, he pushes back slowly, stepping away with his palms placed forward in submission. Flickering cat eyes give way to the witcher’s examination of Dettlaff before she decides to let her knees to the ground. Dettlaff notes she first only shifts her body to side while keep eye contact with his own before giving a hurried worried look into the small den she deposited the pups into earlier. The rustle and few chirps he heard seemed to be what she needed to seat herself in the ground. Faint admiration that she kept her loosened grasp on her sword’s hilt in her continued vigilant protection of the bundle of lives behind her, Dettlaff returns her fragile trust to sitting himself down in hopes he can coax the witcher to letting her believe his words. It became a tense game of ‘I give some, you give some,’ when she gives back by pulling her hand to her lap, folding with the other. A breath leaves him that he did not realize he held when his shoulders drop forward.

Dettlaff snaps back into focus as he, in some point, forgot the witcher’s horse. Steady slow steps made way to put the vampire to absolute wonder when the mare chose to approach him rather to her rider. Dark brown eyes held intelligence that he was always familiar too with the creatures of this world, held its focus on him as she muzzles against his form. The act was met with a tender reach to hold clawed fingers to her snout, slowly brushing over the velvet fur of the mare. A moment later the scene was broken up with a throat clearing and a question, “are you a vampire?” Blue met gold and Dettlaff gives a nod, her lips twitch, “What kind? If you don’t mind me asking, you don’t seem to be a katakan.”

It seemed that the ordeal as of so far began to tax the witcher as he notes the weariness in her eyes and heavy bags below them, “I am what you witchers call a true higher vampire,” Each word he gave care to, as Dettlaff hoped to not ruin the fragile peace between them. The only answer the witcher gave back is a loose ‘huh’. A need to explain his side of the ordeal, Dettlaff starts with a downed look with each word building heavy shame, “your wait for the mother is in vain. In her travel, she was discovered by those men you killed. “Already weakened from birthing the two you now protect and from her own health waning proved to be too much for her as she was murdered.” Forcing to swallow a lump in his throat with the further admission, “she was bound to where I currently reside with my other lesser kin. To seek safety… I was too late.”

Dettlaff couldn’t seem to find strength for the moment to face the witcher with the failure he came to acceptance. Yet the witcher gave way to a quiet curse that held a tone of remorse and something else. When he couldn’t place what it was he returned his eyes to her and became awash with the unexpected intensity of worry of her. The witcher’s body looked to be absolutely drained of any fight for energy and a growing paleness made through her skin. Her throat bobs before her next words that tear the air out of the vampire from the sincerity in her voice, “I’m sorry…for your loss.”The witcher fumbles in her action to move as she continues, “I know what that guilt is like.”

Everything froze within Dettlaff with the heaviness showing grief like similar to his own. She makes a stand with her sword forgotten and made forward. The vampire saw the disorientation in her eyes before she started her fall and without thought he leaped to break the witcher’s fall with his arms. Unfocused eyes, daze around in her last attempts to focus before the witcher turned prone.

Uncertainty filled the vampire that met with matching worry in his core. Focusing his hearing, the witcher’s heartbeat gave shallow and slow but steady. With one arm around underneath, he pulls the unconscious witcher against his chest as another hand begins examination. Prodding touches gave way to gnawing unease from the sharp juts of her ribcage beneath ragged leather but when he took her scent in, there was no sign of any form of illness or infection. A deep frown forms when his clawed hands moved up to cusp the woman’s face and traces the tips along the shallow cheeks. Each second gave more questions than the answers he wishes would show. Another pass with the pad of his thumb he brushes under the dark circles beneath closed eyes while Dettlaff drew a blank to what could bring a witcher to this state. A thought causes s gasp to shudder deeply from the vampire when the dots formed an assumed connection between the physical state of this witcher and her readiness to be killed by him, stabbed center of his chest.

A chuff from the mare breaks the rising tempest of emotions for the moment and Dettlaff looks to the mare, back to the den of waiting pups, with it to only return to the witcher. A movement of thought and Dettlaff decides.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoop, finally. though who knows where this could go. (well i do but shh) Next chapter will bring the focus back to Dessi. I smell orange glazed rolls in the house so that's my cue


	5. A whisper in a storm can be louder than any roar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A witcher waking in a cave den of vampires tends to make Dessi a bit grouchy if it was something of a regular thing, yet its not. For all of her life, who gives true kindness without expectations of something in return. After all, it must be some sick cosmic joke that this vampire insists on helping her rather that let Dessi wither away in the forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Triggers/warnings:  
> angst  
> Language  
> Suicidal idealizations  
> Suicide attempt  
> more angst

Soft tickling sensations tickled along Dessi’s nose became the first notion that she might be not where the thought she should be. But with the cozy warmth that lay around her, it was hard to resist the lull back into nothing. Whatever she slept on certainly did not help any effort to wake up with the only descriptions to be in her head, _‘mhh, bed comfy.’_ Well mostly in her head, a sound must have slipped when movement of something she can’t place started to press against her stomach, and talking? Somewhere close by? The squirming brought Dessi’s mind to how her muscles itched and with that her arms moved upward, hands clawing out as her legs push out with their own stretch which ended with a loudly groaned yawn. Eyes peeking out, an alarming sense rang with her shooting upwards.

“Shit! Fuck! The hell?” One hand scrambles for absent swords as her sight takes in the candle lit…cave? Shifting feet snaps Dess’s attention to the three she realized were the voices she heard, standing some distance away from she finds the rather thick placement of assorted furs and pelts that she was previously sleeping on. Only one of the three gave familiarity with the intense blue eyes that dawns her previous moments before passing out before. Next to him, Dessi clearly distinguishes as a young male nosferat retaining only a humanoid appearance at best, the other, the reflection in her eyes to give guess of a bruxa who glowered back. _‘Vampire cave?’_

“Shit!?”

“Are you done swearing yet?” the woman gave slight with a curl of her lips.

“Fuck you” honestly not giving a hoot for any form of civility, Dessi’s hands twitch in thought of a sign when a low cautious rumbling voice gives her pause.

“Serphae, calm yourself.” Blue eyes moves a halting hand, “let her orientate.”

Instantly Serphae retorts harshly, “Calm myself, Dettlaff? How can I when yet you make another mistake to care for another wret--!”

A snarled roar and a slam, followed by a shriek, deafened the cave as Dettlaff lunged into the bruxa. The action gave terror to the nosferat who flattened himself to the opposite wall. Dessi’s body gave jump to the explosive energy as Dettlaff’s jaw clamped over the other’s jugular in a pin. Heart racing, the witcher was ready to bolt anywhere when frantic squeaks and pricking claws dig into her leg.

“Shit,” with a hiss, Dessi gathered Talli and Tino into her arms tightly to her chest, curling her legs up in a feeble attempt to shield them from the outburst. Panic gave way to straight sudden fury when she barks out, “HEY ASSHOLES!!”

The original loud snarls from Dettlaff drops to a low growl and Serphae turns mute, “If you two want to shred each other then find somewhere else before you scare these babies to death!”

Absolute silenced followed the next few seconds when Dettlaff pulled away with a warning, “Leave Serphae until you can compose yourself.” Before the bruxa was able to bolt out he adds a dangerous tone, “do not mention her again.”

A rustle of air and the other vampire vanished. Dessi could feel the waves of anger from Dettlaff as he kept his back turned for what she felt was the longest minute of her life before a sigh. He turns back to Dess and glances to the nosferat, “Jek, would you bring a small bowl of stew for our guest?” The younger vampire did not hesitate to vacate his spot as he darts through a tunnel, happily creating distance. Dettlaff cautiously eyes Dessi once more, “I apologize witcher, are you well?”

Immediately scoffing whilst running a soothing hand over the pups that have glued themselves to her, “Well? Are you serious?” Disbelief came out in a sharp laugh, “How fucking well do you think I am? Last thing I remember I passed out to suddenly waking up in a lair full of vampires, when all I expected was for you to take Talli and Tino with you and just leave me as I hoped.” Dessi takes a moment to shake her head before gritting teeth, “now where the hell are my things and Indi?”

From the moment Dessi has woken up, she has been nothing but riled up so when she finished the witcher couldn’t help the take some form of sick twisted pride when it looked like Dettlaff was slapped by her reply. Mouth agape, Dessi could not help but think of him as a fish out of water.

Whatever brought him back leads him to start, “Witch-“

“Dessi”

“Pardon?”

“My name is Dessi, not witcher,” she snips back.

Frowning deeply with Dessi’s tone, “Dessi, I could not simply leave you in your state. Your answer earlier only confirms my suspicion to your physical state and the goal you seek. I believe to be right in not only taking your unconscious body to a safe place, but to also gather your belongings and guide your mare along. I presume she is this Indi you speak of.”A pause as he peers to the pups Dessi has yet to relinquish from her curled form, “You have named them?”

Myriad of emotions bustle inside Dessi, unsure about the stern concern in Dettlaff’s voice or the soft awe that came through with his last question. On one hand, she wished to give harsh to him but the already weary weight from the suddenness of it all left only a tired resigned answer.

“I couldn’t just call them ‘boy’ or ‘girl’. They are more than that. Something more.” Dipping her head she takes in the sight of the two fisting into a shirt she realizes that wasn’t hers she was wearing. Pinching the soft cloth with her other hand, she pulls it for a sniff and picks up a strong distinct male musk that mixed with something to sandalwood, leather, and fresh forest soil. If the situation was different, Dessi might have given more attention to it. Given with how it bagged on her, she connects it with its original owner who stands only a few feet away.

Taking her silence for a cue, Dettlaff lessens the gap between them in slow steps before sitting himself at the edge of the furs she resides on. It brings her attention that the pile of fur sat close to another. Fire turns into uncertainty to as how to navigate the predicament she woken too. _‘Now who feels like a fish out of water,_ ’ the thought came bitterly. The struggle of the strangeness of it all gave way to a deep unease when the intensity the blues eyes, which as of yet, has not peer deeply at all what Dettlaff keeps his focus on. Those very eyes seem keen on its contact with her own. Fluttering fills in her gut, indistinguishable from exactly what, heightens in recognizing Dettlaff holds no scrutiny as a guard would hold with a prisoner, nor an opponent trying to predict Dessi’s next move in a fight. They held a sense of genuine concern and tenderness.

Wetting her lips before starting again, “why have you not taken them? Shouldn’t they, well, you know be with their own?”

Dettlaff’s lips twitch up in a smile in faint amusement, “Would you believe if I told you we tried.”

“Eh?” Dessi’s confusion only gave a crinkle in the corners of his eyes, yet held nothing belittling when he continued.

“While you have rested, which has been close to two days if I might add,” Dettlaff gives pause as a splutter pops out of Dessi, “initially we first laid you here, next to where I sleep so I am able to be sure of your recovery, we took the two to where a couple of female ekimmara for whelping. For the moment, none in these caves are producing milk so those that are more in depth with blending in have traveled to a human settlement close to twenty miles away for trade and brought goats milk back.”

“I still wonder as to why the little ones are still with me,” Dettlaff only raises a brow to prompt Dessi’s silence.

“Talli and Tino would not cease their cries and refused their bottles. It should be brought up, when pups want something their cries can make sensitive ears ring. The demands, ceaselessly as they were, became clearly understood to their want to be with their mother.” Dettlaff’s hand raise to halt another interjection, “it was not their birth mother Talli and Tino cried for Dessi. It was for you.”

Dettlaff’s hand lies down and Dessi rocks her head back into the rock behind her with a curse, followed by another when the contact was harder than expected.

“Please tell me you’re joking,” She groans out while squashing down the sense of ardor.

“Afraid not and it seems even in your slumber, you were keen to having them with you.”

The apparent incredulous look from the witcher twitches yet another small smile from Dettlaff that held an apologetic tone. She looks down accusingly at the two in her arms but her eyes could not hold bite when Tino curled under Talli’s arm with a sigh, while the little girl kneaded the shirt with a stream of purrs. A flittering feeling in Dessi’s chest pulls a frown from her.

“What exactly did I do while I was out?”

“Returning both Talli and Tino gave an immediate response on your half. When placed, you curled around them and they became content. Both took to their bottles as long they kept physical contact with you.” A sheepish grin spreads on Dettlaff, “another difficulty arose as at every attempt I went to gather them to clean you unconsciously proved quite challenging.”

“Uh-huh?” Dessi was quiet lost with were Dettlaff was going.

“I realized you are prone to swinging out punches in your sleep.”

Dessi turned blank for several moments. Long enough for Dettlaff to worry, “Des-“

Upright howls of laughter are all what Dessi could manage. Snorting through the fits she manages to start, “yeah, I do that,” as if a flick of a switch, her tone darkened, “I understand you want them to catch up on feeding and what not and you may feel that my unguarded reaction is a sign that I will somehow willingly continue their care but you need to take them. And no, do not interrupt.” The last part a hiss, “my mind, while not bound to conscious thought, may want to nurture and protect them, but I know through experience, _bloody_ experience, this will end badly.” All the bitterness rising in Dessi’s body from past memories, she uses it to seethe out further, “from the way you pinned me in our first encounter, you have had a previous experience with a witcher. Yes?” Dettlaff opens his mouth, “don’t answer, I know. If you have yet distinguished from my medallion, I am of the school of cat. Whatever school that other witcher hailed from, and I use past tense because I’m sure you must have killed the witcher, us cats are the bastards of all the schools. The true psychotic freaks that shouldn’t continue existing.” Dessi waits for the information to sink in the vampire, “To put it very plainly, every individual that has been placed in my care I murder when they are no longer useful.” She struggles to keep the dangerous tone when she sourly thinks that many of them she would have let live if she was just able to choose. Even with the dire warning to rid the pups Dessi kept her arms firm around the small bodies as if her arms had their own will.

The scene interrupts when the same nosferat reenters the area with a bowl steaming thickly with the smells of venison and vegetables. Jek takes quick steps to the witcher, swiftly placing the bowl next to her before nodding to Dettlaff as he darts away again. Dessi takes the time to sip the broth with one hand before putting the bowl back down.

“Dessi,” a worried whisper.

“Dettlaff,” a blank answer.

“Do you believe so whole heartily that you will hurt the very two that see you as their mother? That you are unable to change? Unable for something more?” His voice gives a plea, last question barely audible as if it was for himself.

“Given my history, that I have lived through, I need you to believe you made a mistake taking me here.” Her energy drains from trying to stay so harsh, Dessi starts to feel more like an empty husk, veining for this vampire to realize his mistake. Her voice, faint with resign, “I wanted to die in those woods. To waste into nothing. Even if I stayed, someone somehow will find out that I’m here. The type of people who only wish to bring carnage. I’m sorry you want to help Dettlaff.” Pulling her arms up, Dessi raises the pups and gently kisses the tops of their heads. “I’m so tired. I’m so tired that everything good in my life just turns to ash.” She looks to her side, a pile of some of her belongings lay bare, “let me gather my things and lead me to Indi. These two will forget me in the end.”

Unable to look at Dettlaff, she stares blankly down into the furs. What Dessi expected was an agreement, for this vampire to regain his senses. The sound of movement gave belief that he will finally take the duo. Instead, he moves to sit next to Dessi, placing a warm hand on her arm. She refuses to look at those deep blues.

“Dessi, whatever you believe from your studies about beasts, us vampires, I believe none have mentioned that we do not in fact forget something so impactful, even with how young Talli and Tino are. The imprints they form set the foundation of how they grow. They won’t care for your past. They just want you.” Dettlaff gives a light squeeze on her arm, “you describe yourself as a monster but express interest in the well-being of others. I know there is much more to you than what you have divulged.” His voice grows with determination. Dessi just wants to shake him off and leave. The well of emotions gives her the itch to run, to scream, to do something to get him to stop, yet she sits. “You let yourself waste away yet your mare is left in a well cared for state. No dips in her body from lost weight. Her mane seems to have been meticulously brushed. Hooves that are well maintained. You speak of being something so horrid but your actions sing of something quite different.” A pause, “why did you bring Indi with you when you intended to kill yourself?”

Air abruptly sucks in Dessi with the question. The witcher has long kept her reasoning out of mind, afraid for how weak she feels. She tries to take a steady breath but ends in vain when it shakes, “She knows how to unbuckle her saddle and to slip her harness.” The hand moves to letting claws brush softly over her skin. The action builds a hot lump in her throat. Her eyes prickle and still she can’t find the will to get up. “I didn’t want to be alone.”

The last sentence was like a broken dam when hot streaks fall down her cheeks. Distantly she hears a strangled noise from the vampire. Tiny clawed paws prod Dessi’s jaw line; the higher pitch squeak against the witcher’s chest gives signal to Tino’s distress. Talli wriggled in haste to move further upward to Dessi’s face finding open skin, flickering a little pink tongue furiously against the witcher. Dessi opens her mouth speechlessly in light to the fact those little licks were following the trail of her tears.

“Dessi” the tenderness of the voice brings her to turn to face Dettlaff. Those blue eyes left her feeling bare. His voice murmured in a tight voice, “I know how you feel. Stay.”

Dessi kept silent, too lost to know what to say next.

“It is the start of winter. Stay if you can. Just till the first bloom of spring.” Hand leaving her arm, it wraps around the back of her head, tugging till their foreheads touch, “give them time to grow some and reach out to others without being abandon. Give yourself time to rest here.” His lips tighten into a line before he spoke again, “give this a chance till then. When spring comes I will not stop you. What you do afterwards is on your own device. I will not follow.”

The begging fear, sadness, and a sense of knowing of her turmoil in his eyes led to closing her own. Her mind changes its focus to her own breathing. Several slow breaths pass gave her the time to listen to that small damned voice that seemed to never die out no matter how hard she tried. Eyes closed, Dessi musters shaky words.

“I will stay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes when we are at our lowest and want to give up, there is always that small part of us that can give just enough for us to stick around. Whatever it may be, take it, even if you don't want to. Recovery from trauma is never pretty but sometimes sharing it with another being who understands can make all the difference.


	6. Smoothing Raised Furs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dessi's mind calms over time as Dettlaff shifts the focus to caring for both Talli and Tino. Their time talking becomes joined by dashing shadows in the corner of the witcher's mind and it becomes apparent that these two will rub each other the wrong way quite often in the arrangement Dessi agreed too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Triggers/Warnings:  
> Language

As it turned out, much to Dessi’s relief, Dettlaff is a person of silent support. The following hours of after she gave her word to stay, he has guided her throughout the cave systems as she nestles the occasionally squeaky pups against her chest. The caves were part of a mining system connected to a small abandon village. Previous human inhabitants either left or passed away from a form of plague some years ago with the only possible linking evidence was from the nearby graveyard with large amounts of small graves of children. But that was Dettlaff’s opinion since Dessi has of yet left the tunnels. She gives his words her trust when she concludes the dark haired vampire would not simply lie about matters on this and cover something sinister. In fact he would give soft instructions on caring for both Talli and Tino. Things such as taking a warmed cloth to wiping excrements from their bodies, how to fasten skins over vials of warmed milk and poking the right size of hole so the little ones would not sputter from excess from nursing. The little facts of knowledge he would lay out for her worked her mind into a calm state as she meticulously absorbed every word. Dessi welcomed the distraction as the earlier waves of emotions gave way to calm ripples.

It was no surprise that the other lesser vampires kept their distance from the witcher. A known killer of their kind was not something to be welcomed in their home. Yet Dessi picked up in the corner of her eyes, Jek, who seemed to trail stealthily followed by another smaller figure. Every time she would cock her head over, they would both be gone. It was a small amusement in her mind along with something a little softer when watching their efforts. She was sure that Dettlaff knew about the trailing but didn’t believe to be something to put concern on.

“-ads to a couple of exits to the village…Dessi?” A voice pulls her back.

“Huh?” Dessi must have worn quite a befuddled look when Dettlaff gives a small smile, mirth clear in his eyes.

“You seem,” he hums off a bit, “distracted”

She pauses at the crinkles around his blue eyes and how they seem so bright in the dark. Her mind gives way to how the look added youthfulness to him and how messy black curls that tangle in some places had silver streaks. They framed his face nicely even when they look wild. The same colors adorned the scruff along his jaw, yet the rugged appearance was fairly charming. Dessi may have waited too long to respond when his brows scrunch in concern and he opens to start but became interrupted.

“Sorry, yeah.” Dessi bumbled a bit. Feeling foolish she tries to snap back into focus, “I, uh, guess got lost in my mind? What was that?”

Worry melts away from the vampire when he sees the witcher fluster a bit from nothing serious. Dettlaff wonders if she feels the dust of red on her cheeks. Tried as he may, when she was deep in slumber, Dettlaff put effort to wiping dirt off of her with a wet cloth. He gives noticed to the missed spots along her hairline. Instead of brown hair, the grime and dirt gave way to a light mousy color. The hair chopped in odd lengths and angles as if she took a blade to it in frustration from the matting. It fell around scarred skin that gave some lighter and dark pink patches to her natural olive tones. When he had scrubbed her before he also gave thought if she ever question if which she had more, freckles or scars. It was as if a painter took a brush and flicked paint onto her.

“Hmm, I was giving brief on how we near a couple entrances to the village.” He wonders how she would look when the harshness she has suffered did not weigh so heavily on her. In their own musings they had both stop. Distant chatter of the other residents echoed the walls

Dessi takes a step away from Dettlaff, lowers her eyes and lifts up her nose she breathes in the air. True to his words, the scent of fresh air fills her senses. The witcher’s half lidded eyes widen back up when a small tunnel high up on the wall caught her interest. Shifting her feet forward, the same movement was heard behind her. Dessi paid no heed to the vampire when she feels the crawl in her muscle begging her to sate the need to know what lies beyond. The witcher’s toes began to wriggle in the dirt beneath them with an itch.

“Dessi, tell me what is on your mind.” Dettlaff’s voice sounds a bit tickled at watching her.

Dessi only stares for a bit longer before turning heals sharply back to Dettlaff, “can you hold the pups, I want to crawl to the other side.”

The action catches the vampire off-guard and his lips thin flatly against themselves. He folds his arms with abrupt pensiveness and with stiff words, “Any reason for this?”

Rapidly changing from a light mood to something Dessi felt being scrutinize of something was met swiftly with a snip, “Any reason for your attitude.” She takes the time in saying her words whilst stepping to toe the vampire with her arms already crossed from holding the dozing duo, she juts her chin out.

Dettlaff’s expression only pinches up more, if that was even possible, “I simply wish to know what you intend.”

“And I want to know why you are suddenly so moody,” His only response for the moment was the tightening of his hands over his arms, “fine, don’t answer me. In fact I will answer you,” Dessi stands her ground with a scowl, “If I am going to stay here till the spring, I am not going to do so with constant escort. I am not someone to coddle.” She takes her time to study the vampire who only seems as stiff as a statue, “and unlike you, who is being an ass by the way, my answer is that I simply want to look, then return. When I decide to leave I would do so by either telling you upfront or disappearing before you ever notice.”

The way he turns his back to her with shoulders hunch grew a want to poke at the childishness of it but Dessi bit her tongue instead. The forced sigh brought her back when Dettlaff turns to her once more. His head bows more than what it would take to look to the witcher and Dettlaff’s eyes gave purchase to the ground for a time before meeting her own. His voice gives uncertainty in what seems to be more about his previous actions,

“I believe I have made a mistake. My reaction was unjust in your request.” Dettlaff weighs his next words, “I am unsure of the reason of why I acted so but I understand I owe an apology Dessi.”

Dessi’s mind whirs a bit at his sincerity, _‘well fuck, now I feel like an ass,’_ she groans aloud, giving surprise to the vampire before starting, “you apologized, I accept it….and, I shouldn’t have called you an ass.”

Dessi digs a foot into the dirt a bit, unknowing in how to move forward but couldn’t help her lips quirking up in Dettlaff’s following statement,

“Even if I was,” a pause as he gives a small smile, “indeed an, _ass_.”

The witcher was first to give a snort that led to a small fit of giggles, “I think I should keep the swearing jig, no offense Dettlaff, but you don’t seem one to degrade themselves with those words.”

Air huffs through Dettlaff’s nose in his own quiet laugh, “Even if my fumble with crude words provides amusement for my guest?” the vampire’s smile only grew when Dessi sputters another small laugh, “Allow me the pups, I shall await here.”

Rewarded with what Dettlaff believes to be Dessi’s honest carefree grin, he felt a sense of lightness as he cradles the dozing duo. A flutter of awe joins when watching her excitement as she sprints to the wall and runs a step up the side before bounding upwards with ease allowing her the purchase to grab the edge and pull herself into the opening. She turns back with a grin before slipping further out of sight.

Watching for a moment, Dettlaff turns to sit at the opposite wall, lost in thought for the time being while still holding a small smile. A presence of another leaning into him takes his notice to Jek, who sits and stares wide eyed at the other. Dettlaff brings a hand over to clasp at Jek’s hand with a questioning squeeze at the look. Unknowingly, Dettlaff’s distraction gave a slip for the smaller figure to dart into the raised passage the witcher passed through.

A form of glee passes through Dessi as she crawls through the shaft. Taking inventory of how the width and height of it. Pleased that it was neither too big nor small, giving a sense of security as she crawls forward. A light at the distant speaks true to Dettlaff’s words. Letting her mutations kick in, her vision increases the intake of light as she examines the tracks along the bottom and sides of the tunnel. Scuffs and scrapes give way to those who came through before and along on one side off the wall, layers of multiple claw marks have been placed. Some showing the smoothness of becoming worn down while others fresh with the still rough and jagged texture as she brushes the surface with her own hand. Leaning close to the marks she inhales gradually. While the smell of vampires has been evident throughout the caves, this particular spot was a hot spot of sorts. Dessi gives thought to the probability that this was a way to inform others whether they were leaving or coming back. Her nails continue the soft scrapes of the surface and before she gave much thought, she curls her fingers and digs into the wall with her own mark. Idly, she wonders if this would end up pissing them off but shrugs as she turns to move forward to the light.

The dim orange hues of the cloud covered sunset at the entrance give way to the sight of village. Ramshackle houses littered the area below. Much to her delight, the spot was indeed high up on this end also, giving her a wide view of outside world. Many of the abandon homes have their roofs caved in and a majority of them have holes and collapse beams, either by their own age or by purpose of the current inhabitants. A lazy yawn pulls from Dessi as she lowers to her stomach, propping her head into a hand. The coolness of the stones beneath her combined with the warmth of the setting sun on her face gave way to her eyes momentarily fluttering shut. Casually she gives thought of the advantages of this point. An unsuspecting opening high up on rocky cliff of a mining system creates an excellent position of cover. _‘Could even lay here with a crossbow with no one the wiser,’_ the musing gives way to a soft chuckle.

Distant horse squeals gives Dessi a jump as she finds herself on her hands and knees, leaning forward with alertness. With a trot, Indi reveals herself from behind one of the houses, her tail raised as a flag, giving low shakes with her head; Indi circles the opening on the roads of the village. What raises Dessi’s brows is the fact that from her spot she sees that not only Dettlaff kept his word of taking her friend here, but that she was taken care of quite well. The mare’s mane shown braids and the small bucks from her allows the previous knowledge of the horse to be known that Indi is in an excited mood. The individual that came following Indi rapidly changes Dessi’s relief to a scowl in recognizing the same bruxa from when the witcher woke.

“The fuck she doing with my horse?” the curse only above a whisper, Dessi marks Serphae’s movements. The bruxa pulls an apple from a satchel she bore and raises it to Indi, who without hesitation devours a chunk of it. “Traitor,” Dessi half heartedly mumbles but in the end is grateful that her friend is being spoiled as she should.

“Do you always talk to yourself?” The unexpected small voice jerks the witcher’s head that she bumps the corner of it on the wall.

“Shit” rubbing her head she turns to see that behind her a young redhead girl sat cross-legged behind the witcher. Incredulously, Dessi stares a bit dumbfounded that she was snuck up on by a child only to inwardly face palm in her mind, _‘duh, vampire den. I must be the shittiest witcher ever.’_

“Are you ok?” the girl crawls forward with an outstretched hand that was met with Dessi leaning back. “Did I say something wrong?” her voice raises in an upset concern.

Blinking out of her stupor, “No no, well, I mean,” Dessi’s fumbles, “Well yes I talk to myself sometimes and ya I’m fine. It was just a bump.”

“Oh, ok!” the little girl’s voice turns excited with a smile, showing teeth, “I’m Anya and now I know what a witcher looks like up close, except you don’t look scary to me.”

A bit taken aback with the situation and by Anya’s words, Dessi scrambles for her own, “not scary? Then what do—oh wait, hold up, you’re the other one with Jek that has been following me?”

“Yup,” Anya preens before looking sheepish, “well I was supposed to stay with Jek out of sight cause he said you are dangerous but I don’t think so. I begged and begged to see you and Jek said fine but as long I stay close to him and don’t let you see us.” She shrugs, “but I guess you did see us and so I say why shouldn’t I go see you up close.” She beams her smile and even with the surprise of the situation Dessi could not help but return the expression.

“So if you are here then where is Jek?”

“Oh, he saw you climb up in here and went to talk to Dettlaff. He didn’t see me follow you cause he was busy.”

The way Anya spoke about it all felt so simple. Dessi hums to herself wishing life could be so too.

“Okey, so…” Dessi digs at the other part Anya spoke of, “you said you never seen a witcher up close. Does that mean you seen another before?”

The question drops Anya’s look lowly before she answered quietly, “yeah. I think he was bad.”

Dessi’s throat bobs in an uneasy swallow with her next question, “what happened?”

“Mommy went to go feed cause we moved a lot. She came back scared said we need to run.” Anya pulls her legs together in a hug. Slowly Dessi scoots forward to pull the girl to her side, “humans saw her and a witcher was following. She told me to run and not stop or look back.”

“Was this recent?”

Anya sniffs hard before again surprised the witcher with a braved face, “I don’t know what makes it recent or not.. five years feels quick and slow.”

Moving her arm to rub soothing circlers on the girl’s shoulder, “I think I can explain.” Dessi breathes in a moment, “events themselves will grow away with time but strong emotions make things feel close..right?”

Anya nods slowly, “is that normal to feel?”

An innocent question, yet something that brings many thoughts in the witcher, “I suppose so Anya.”

The girl, seeming satisfied with the answer, leans her head against Dessi’s chest, “I didn’t listen to mommy. I went back but it hurt to breath. It was so dusty with air that burned and mommy was laying and not moving. Mommy wasn’t feeling anything and I knew cause there were no colors around her. I remember my skin burning to from the air and I made a noise.” Anya moved her hands to clutch Dessi’s other hand, “the witcher was still there. He looked very scary and he also had dark colors around him and heard me but before he could do anything I was suddenly moving away very very fast.”

“How so?” Dessi realizes that this child has felt the need to share her story and though the witcher gave the thought to stop the girl, to stop the pain that Dessi now feels in her chest, she listens.

“Serphae found me and she picked me up and we were so far away so fast.” Anya’s voice gave way to admiration at the mention of the bruxa. “She took me away and made me feel safe. She even taught me to read and speak like humans too!” the girl beams again up at Dessi with pride.

“how old are you Anya?”

“I’m nine,” she giggles, “how old are you..um what’s your name?”

Dessi returns the beaming smile, “I’m Dessi, and I think I am seventy nine…ish?”

“Ish?”

“I kind of don’t know. I was a street rat before I was taken by a witcher.”

“Street rat?”

“oh um, an orphan who lived on the streets in a big city.”

Anya on gives a soft ‘oh’ before Dessi spoke again, “if you saw a scary witcher that hurt your mom, why did you come to me?”

“Cause your colors and lines are not like that one.” She explains as if it was simple knowledge, “also you love Talli and Tino and you talk to yourself.”

Blinking aback, “colors and lines?”

“Yup, that witcher was all dark red and sharp and spiky like broken glass.” Anya pauses with a finger on her chin, “you have that too but it is smaller and have more other colors and lines. Like a pretty yellow with swirls when you see your pups but you have a lot of dark blue and black around it. Just like Dettlaff. Are you sad?”

Dessi’s shoulders tense at the girls revelation and decides to answer her question with another, “You see emotions?”

Anya hums dramatically with thought, “That is what mommy said. She saw it too and her mommy too. Serphae and Dettlaff say it’s a gift that has a name but it’s too long for me to remember. Are you sad?”

The witcher groans at the girl’s persistence but answers anyway, “It is not that simple.”

“Why?”

Dessi’s exasperation leads out another groan, “There is more than sad…I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay,” Anya gives back simply, “can we be friends?”

The witcher’s sudden sputter catches both of them off guard and Dessi quickly answers, “I don’t think that is a good idea.”

“Why not?”

Dessi’s shoulders sag and her hand raises to pinch the bridge of her nose, “Anya, it’s not that simple.”

“Why can’t you make it simple?” the girl’s innocence in her curiosity both builds irritation in the witcher and the want to push the kid aside to leave, but a part asks to herself, _‘why can’t it be simple.’_

“Kid, I don’t have friends. I hurt people and I’m not someone you want to be friends with.” 

“Does that mean you will hurt me?” Anya’s tone turns sad and Dessi panics.

“No nononono, that is something I never want to do.” Dessi sighs loudly, “Jeez kid.”

“So, why can’t you be my friend,” the pout in Anya’s face digs at the witcher.

Dessi pinches her nose again and forces her jaw to loosen to not sound an ass, “I will be your friend.”

“Really?!” immediate joy sprang from Anya.

“Really, kid,” Dessi replies before adding, “We should find Dettlaff before he gets all worried and the pups start crying about.”

“Okay,” Anya turns and practically runs on her fours towards other direction with the witcher in tow.

“I’m so screwed.” Dessi mutters to herself, "fuck."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As Dessi tries, she can't find herself remaining impassive with those around her. Honestly must feel pretty weird to go from being alone for months on end to suddenly being surrounded by others. Sometimes taking the quickest way out of a convo will inadvertently end in tangling up the witcher even more.


	7. Alley Cats and Bats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dettlaff, while in waiting, muses about how strange life has been for him. Especially as of late with Dessi now in his care. Yet being able to navigate around the witcher can prove quite difficult when even the smallest of good intentions is constantly perceived as a form of trickery for the witcher. The witcher herself not able to figure out how to move forward in this new territory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings/Triggers:  
> N/A

Dettlaff always knew Jek to be a worrier. Most of the boy’s life has been on the move with no real place of home; it has left the boy swinging to overly attach to places and people or becoming incredibly disassociated in it. It was the former for this case. Jek has often taken solitude into finding Dettlaff, after the older vampire first started to reside the current spot, and simply sit with him as Dettlaff was often one to sit in silence more often as of late than usual.

“You are worried about the witcher” Dettlaff stated not needing to question the obvious, “you are not alone in that though I do not believe she is one to bring harm to anyone here.”

Jek’s befuddlement only prompted Dettlaff to speak further but with a small grimace, “it seems I have the penchant of coming across those who differ ideals from the rest of their kind. Has my answer helped you?”

Wide brown eyes squint in thought before they shot back open frantically in looking behind him. A quick sharp trill lets out the young nosferat in a worried call. Dettlaff, understanding who he calls to, listens for a reply. With none returned he puts pause to Jek’s calls with a hand on his shoulder before reaching out for the familiar tether of a certain young alp. As always her end of the connection is bright with what holds her fascination. What’s more is that Anya’s fascination is focused on a certain witcher in that same tunnel. His own end flickers with nervousness of not knowing what could be transpiring. It was a thought to use the tether to call the girl back when Talli squirmed in his arms, drawing his attention for the moment to see her yawn before settling herself on top of Tino. The sight sprung a thought in Dettlaff as he faces Jek again.

“I believe an order of trust should be exercised for the witcher. Dessi will not harm little Anya,” he brings the young vampire close so he was to lean against Dettlaff, “we will wait.”

Jek relaxes against Dettlaff with a whisper, “the witcher is strange.”

Closing his own eyes Dettlaff replies, “strange yes, but with a kind heart if she lets herself.”

Though saying with intending trust to the witcher is one thing, being able to sit in wait without restlessness is another for Dettlaff. The moment felt stretched into longer than he knew it should. To keep himself mindful for the time being, Dettlaff idly ran his claws through the soft fur of the pups, listening as small purrs filling the silence. The light landing of feet on the ground opens his eyes to the always curious Anya beaming a wide grin. Sound of her appearance pulls Jek from his rest to quickly embracing the young alp while nosing around her cheeks and neck.

“Shouldn’t run away like that Anya.” Jek hushes out as he kneels downs while pressing his nose in the crook of her neck, “said you will stay with me.”

“I’m sorry Jek,” Anya pulls away, placing her hands over the worried nosferat’s cheeks, “I said I would but Dessi already saw us and I said I hide as long she doesn’t know but she knows and now she is my friend,” She finishes with a wide grin.

Hearing Anya’s words gave raise to Dettlaff’s brows as he went to start asking but broke off when gravel fell to the ground as the witcher in question drops from the tunnel. Dessi’s hand reaches up to rub at what seems to be a sheepish grin with how tight her lips pressed and eyes that bounces between Dettlaff to the other two. Anya looks back to Dessi and skips to her, grabbing the witcher’s other hand.

“See Jek,” Anya exclaims excitedly, “she is not dangerous, though Dessi does talk to herself.”

Seemingly to pull herself from her awkwardness, Dessi gives a squeeze of her hand, “Yeah, I am a bit odd, and I guess I’m not that too terrible,” she ends with a quirk in the corner of her lips. Dessi’s eyes meet Dettlaff’s with a bit something shy to another emotion. Dettlaff in turn lifts himself up from his sitting position and steps his way to the witcher with a serious but gentle tone, “not too terrible at all.”

Dettlaff stands himself close to Dessi, keeping his eyes on hers. Dessi drops her eyes first to newly wriggling mass as one set of black eyes peep up from the wrap of furs with a churr followed a soft voice to the side.

“What is a witcher that doesn’t hunt monsters?” Jek wraps his arms around himself with weary eyes, his voice never rising more than whisper.

“I still hunt monsters kid.” Dessi replies firmly, moving the pups into her arms and moving a finger to stroke behind Talli’s ear, “just so happens there are no monsters here.”

Jek, seeming satisfied enough, loosens his arms some around his body. A hand on the back of Dessi’s shoulder brings her to jerking back a step and stare narrowly at Dettlaff who retracts his hand near his chest, giving concern, “Dessi are-“

“I’m just going to lay down a ground rule about me,” Dessi cuts Dettlaff off, “I’m not one who to likes to be touched and I’m going to guess vampires are all touchy feely and what not.” She makes a point also look to Anya and Jek, “It’s not something bad on your part but,’ she sighs heavily, “I honestly don’t always know how I will react when caught off guard.”

Clasping his hands in front of him, Dettlaff nods with a frown, “I understand how you feel.”

“Does that mean you’re mad at me?” Anya pips up with worry.

Dessi answers with taking the girl’s hand, “why would I be mad at you? I believe I was the one to first reach out to you and I don’t mind you grabbing my hand.”

“Really?”

“Really kid,” Dessi reassures the girl with a smile before her eyes light up with an idea, “I don’t know if you really been around actual cats but say you find a cat that has been alone for most of their life or even when not alone the cat was hurt by others. Sometimes the smallest things can be very scary even when those things can be meant to be nice.”

Anya’s face scrunches up in thought but it was Jek who spoke up, “so this cat is not able to tell the difference between the actions of others?”

Dessi humphs in surprise with Jek’s answer, “perhaps I’m speaking cat to cat here. Is that right Jek?”

The boy looks down a bit and gives a small shrug, “everything changes too much.”

Dessi looks to Dettlaff with a wince, “sorry for interrupting you. I keep feeling like this is like some weird dream.”

“Are my acts of kindness not suitable enough evidence for you?” Dettlaff’s brows knit together.

The Witcher sharply inhales in her nose for a moment as her eyes shoot to look to the ground, “everything, including kindness comes with strings attached.”

“What a pitiful life you must have then,” a familiar taunting voice comes from behind which reveals to be Serphae when Dessi turns to face her, “if you call that even living.”

“Oh how great it is to see you again,” Dessi sneers back with curled lips. She moves to cover the pups’ heads with the fur. Protesting squeaks muffle through the covering.

Air huffs out of Dettlaff, “Serphae.”

“I am not here to quarrel,” The bruxa responds back as she looks over to Jek and Anya, “I am here to gather these two for chores.” Her hand reaches out to beckon them as she begins to walk away, “follow, there is work to do.”

Jek wordlessly follows while Anya sticks her lower lip out at Serphae who only raises her brow in return when glancing back. Anya looks up to Dessi with a defeated look, “I have to go, but we will see each other soon right?”

Dessi couldn’t help with the warm smile blooming down at the girl, “yeah and you can show me what you like to do for fun.”

The wide grin from Anya was all what the witcher needs for her own to match, “yup and I will be extra good so I will be done super quick.” Her excited tone stirs Dessi’s own mirth as the girl gives a quick tight hug around the witcher’s waste before skipping off to follow the other two, leaving Dessi, Dettlaff, and the pups to themselves again.

Dessi’s lips thin at the feeling of a bit of loss with the bright girl gone and another with becoming unsure what to do. Dettlaff stands himself close to the witcher again to bring her attention back to him. Though this time, instead of clasping her shoulder, he pauses his reach close to her forearm in wait. The witcher peers up to his face, which still held knitted brows and searching eyes. She steps forward, allowing him to clasp his hand around her arm and his thumb brushes over her skin soothingly. It felt odd in Dessi, looking at those blue eyes felt as if everything became bare. Everything felt so uncertain inside her core yet no matter how hard she tries it was as if its own violation that words she would never voice just waltz out. A small shiver makes its way briefly through her skin even with the warm callous hand that lies on her arm. Yet again, as if on its own, her own hand moves to lay over his. Without looking she could feel how his dwarfs hers. His own eyes look to find something to say in their own struggle and caught on to her shiver.

“You are cold,” Dettlaff seems to pull himself back to focus as he gazes at Dessi’s hand over his own, “I can fetch a pelt for you if you wish to continue to explore but I worry you may exhaust yourself too much with anything further.”

Mimicking his own motion, she draws her thumb over the back of his hand experimentally to see his reaction as his lips part narrowly at her action, “A pelt would be nice and I think I should at least check on Indi,” Dessi chews her lip briefly, “Just for a bit to ease my mind.”

Dettlaff nods in agreement before stating, “wait here a moment for me.”

With his last word, he abruptly turns to mist and darts back deep into the tunnels. Missing the warmth of his hand brought her own to lay on the spot as she watches the fluidity of black and red disappear. A small sneeze startles her for the moment as she pulls back the fur to see Tino fussing his nose with hands before a thump of Talli’s arm hits against him followed by both chittering loudly at each other. Pulling up the bundle, she leans her face down to the two and nuzzles between them. Their bickering turns to excited squeals as squiggle about to rub their faces to her cheeks. Dessi could feel her cheeks pull at her grin and the pups actions drain the tension from her body as she shifts her grin to a smirk at an idea before briefly turning her head to plant a small kiss on Tino and pulls away sharply as he tries to lunge back with his own kiss with a little pink tongue which turns into a series of cross trills. Dessi repeats the action with Talli and receives the same response. She couldn’t help but snicker at their attempts to get back at her as Dessi continues her little game with them.

It took short work for the witcher to be wrapped up in her own light laughter as the two figured how to work together with their little hands to try to capture the affectionate witcher. With all their writhing movement, Talli managed to pull herself enough to wait for the right moment when Dessi turns back to the conspiring pup. Leaning in, Talli took the opportunity to lunge out and places a sharp nip at the witcher’s chin. Surprised, Dessi turns her head away right into Tino’s range who quickly grasps a hand at Dessi’s chin to pull in and dole out his vengeance with licking at the witcher’s lower lip.

Within her own laughter she manages out, “oh no, this mighty witcher has been out maneuvered.” She gives in and stills herself as the two give back her just deserts, Dessi’s shoulders shaking from her trying to stifle her laugh from being too loud.

The sound of someone clearing their throat yanks the witcher out of the little merrymaking as she raises her head to see not only Dettlaff has returned with a large pelted fur, but also covering his mouth with a hand in a failing attempt to not let out a small laugh.

Caught in the act, Dessi felt her cheeks warm before she quickly clears her own throat before weakly attempts to act indifferent, “you’re back. Well of course you are back with being able to mist away and all.” She winces at how lame she sounded before quickly adding, “so yeah, can you help with wrapping the pelt on me. Hands are kinda full and we can go outside and I’m just going to stop talking now.”

Feeling like an absolute fool she turns her back to him in wait for Dettlaff to respond while she curses herself in her mind. Caught up in her own awkwardness, she misses at how Dettlaff stands and watches her attempt to compose herself with crinkled eyes. Dettlaff moves forward slowly with mind to make sure his steps could be heard before he drapes the pelt over her shoulder, his own arms wrap loosely around her as helps tuck the edges into her folded arms. He pulls his hands back to rest on her shoulders, noting how the wrap of the pelt only added to her small frame and how in height her head would rest beneath his collarbones.

Letting his hands grip more lightly on her before releasing, Dettlaff ends the quite moment, “It would be rather dull if you were not to speak again.” He moves around her, knowing she will follow to the main exit.

As Dettlaff pulled the pelt around Dessi, she could feel how close he was and for a moment a thought of what it would be like if she was to lean back as she fleetingly remembers how warm his hand was. Dessi teeth clench to squash the ideation as his hands move to her shoulders. Silently she berates herself at how she has acted at his previous contacts. It was not that she didn’t like it but more so that she did not like how every touch gave way to sense of safety. Dessi lips tighten with another thought that she needs to stop acting as some shy village maiden that needs to be protected. When he moves around to walk to the exit, she mindfully focuses the thought that nothing comes without a price.

Relief became immediate as the first step into the open revealed the night sky. The moon clear and showing it waxing past half. Dessi pauses to take in awe of the sky and marvel the stars above. When she didn’t hear Dettlaff moving she looks down to him to catch him eyeing her with what she felt like how she looked to the stars. As if he caught himself, he changes his focus to the surrounding abandon buildings in search.

Dessi fights back the uncomfortable heat in her face as she struts past him to turn about a building she believes was what she saw earlier in the small opening. Wetting her lips, she purses them together with first a quick low to high whistle, following by two even ones. The whistles soon gave way to quick trotting in the distance as the white and cream painted mare comes to view from around a broken down porch. Indi’s trot turns to more of a bounce as she beelines to the witcher who shuffles forward in turn.

“There you are you brat,” Dessi smiles out as Indi head buts lightly into the witcher’s arms. The motion brings out disturbed chirps from the two pups who fuss themselves to turn to the intruder. Amused at the wound up pups, Dessi tugs the furs around them lower so both Talli and Tino could interact with Indi better. The mare moves her top lip out at the two as the pups seem to scramble to find purchase with their clawed hands. It ended when Talli managed to hook a claw into the mare’s nostril, causing a sneeze. The moment flashes the memory of just how similar the situation was to a couple days ago.

Shaking her head, Dessi moves to Indi’s side to inspect her mane better, “Easy girly, they are still a bit too small to mess with too much.” The witcher shifts the pups to lay more in the crook of one arm as her right hand moves to feel along the new braids placed in the mane. With being up close, it was now visible to see that small wildflowers were woven into the braids.

“I have never encountered a creature such as Indi that took to us with little to no fear,” admiration flows through Dettlaff’s voice as he walks close to them. He takes a stand in front of Indi with an offered hand as the mare leans forward to place her muzzle in it, “She must have been your companion for quite some time.”

“We defiantly had an interesting beginning,” fondness fills Dessi’s words as she leans forward to lean her head into Indi’s neck, “but then again, a law of surprise is a surprise after all.”

“I’ve,” Dettlaff pauses a moment in thought, “believe I have heard of it. A demand of payment from a witcher, correct?”

Dessi hums in agreement, “a little over a decade ago. A time I fondly remember, feeling free even if it was just a short while,” her eyes close in musing, “a small village a good way bit south of Oxenfurt constantly under fear of the fog that first would appear only at night. It wasn’t so bad when it was just a few men in their drunken shenanigans or late traveling merchants would disappear at night with wolves and bandits about. Time went on when the fog settled longer and longer even during the light of morning.” Briefly she opens her eyes to look to Dettlaff who appears hanging on to her story with fascination.

“And then?” the words came out eagerly from the vampire and Dessi couldn’t help but quirk up her lips.

“Someone likes stories, I think,” the witcher teases coyly and stifles a chuckle as Dettlaff’s lower lip slightly pouts out, “no worries I will finish,” the relief in the his eyes could be felt which spurred something playful in Dessi when she throws a wink, “now where was I? Oh yes, it came a time that even the people would even disappear with muffled screams right in the village but the fog was too thick to follow them. Those who tried often were next to be heard in their cries.” Dettlaff moves from Indi’s head to her neck to near the witcher in what looks like childlike suspense in his wide eyes. “One day a witcher is found traveling through said little village and immediately was besieged with beggings of the folk, oh please witcher break this curse upon us; we will give you anything you want.” Dessi purposely pauses again to see Dettlaff strangle back an impatient huff, “naturally the witcher said yes and took the contract. Her investigation concluded to be a group of well fed and overly cocky foglets that realized that terrified villagers are easy pickings. During the day when the sun was highest and the fog has retreated to the woods the witcher set traps all along the village and told the people to lock themselves into their homes and not to leave until it was all over. Once everything was set the witcher sat herself in the middle of the village and waited for night to fall.” Dessi takes a moment to brush her hand over Indi’s neck before leaning in to kiss it. “By morning, the monsters laid dead. The people were grateful and the village leader, Jawsen, asks what I desired. Of course I said ‘what you find at home yet don’t expect.’ It truly was a surprise when his underweight mare foaled a little filly during the night. The mother passed in giving birth but this young mare came out in perfect health.” Dessi chuckles to herself, “I think it was meant to be when Indi walked straight up to me with shaky legs. I just felt something was special with her and she always seems to know who to trust so I in turn trust her judgment.”

“I see how bonded she is to you,” Dettlaff moves his hand over to Dessi’s forearm as before; “I never met a horse that held such intense, watchful eyes as I carried you here. How she would nuzzle into your hair at every chance during our travel.”

Dessi eyes at Dettlaff’s hand as the earlier feelings of before spark up. She looks up at his face and eyes at his thin cheeks with a question that nags at what Serphae said when Dessi first woke up. It was the first time she believed there will be no interruptions so she takes a breath before starting.

“I have a question,” She studies at how his brows crinkle up and lips thin at suspicion, “not to want to upset you so let’s keep it simple yes, no, or glare at me so I don’t ask again.”

Dettlaff’s eyes narrow intensely at Dessi’s words before lowly responding, “Ask your question.”

Slowly she raises her hand to place it over Dettlaff’s as before in the cave, “Back to when I first woke up earlier today, Serphae made a statement about someone,” she watches as he sharply inhales through his nose and turns his gaze to the side, “does that someone have part to your current wellbeing?”

Dessi watches as Dettlaff’s jaws clench in the silence that grew, yet he did not retract his hand from her arm. His grip did turn firm but not close to anything painful when he answers quietly, “yes.”

The witcher lets out a slow exhale, “I see.”

“What is the purpose of this question?” His eyes turn back to hers, thinly veiled pain behind his own.

Slowly Dessi replies, “To find your intent in why you took me in.”

The response was met with Dettlaff jerking his hand away from Dessi as he stumps off several steps with his back turned to her as he growls out, “does no good will ever go your way without you to scorn it witcher?”

Tension gave the air thickly with each breath for Dessi as she searches for her next words, “I believe you mean the best for my own well being and believe me when I say that your efforts have touched me deeply.”

Her statement turns Dettlaff sharply back at her, his face contorts briefly to its more beastly appearance as he barks back, “then why do you continue to slap away at my efforts in this!”

Dessi wills her mutations to force her own heart to keep steady and stand her ground as every part over her body screamed for her fight or flight instincts. Even with her efforts, her body trembled though more in what she begins to admit, “because I came through a situation that wounded me immensely and I see that you are also in a similar situation. Because I cannot tell if I killed someone under my own design or by control of others. That person was the one that could have given me the answer that could have changed everything is dead and now I’m stuck in this hellish limbo. I keep everything that could be used to harm me be under layers of armor and yet here I am in constant struggle cause of you Dettlaff.”

Dettlaff’s features melt back to more human from his shock. The moment stretches till his voice comes out meekly in hurt, “I don’t understand.”

“I know,” Dessi’s own response turns gentle, “and it terrifies me to say that you seem to be able to peel away my defenses with not even meaning to. At first I thought I was under a sort of thrall yet that was thrown out the window as I’m truly now understanding you’re a person of good heart. I don’t know if it has been my own exile or just I’m that damn tired but I just can’t seem to catch my footing here. Dettlaff, I don’t know what to do.” Her last words come out frailly weak.

His own pained expression meets with sadness withing himself at seeing her defeated look as he struggles to whether keep to his spot or to rush to comfort Dessi. In the end he only manages out, “you should rest some more.”

Dessi nods numbly as she shifts to quickly make her way back to the cave before disappearing from sight. Staring off to where the witcher left too, Dettlaff lets out a shaky breath. A crow caws nearby and Dettlaff focuses himself to the bird as he ponders the matter that he has deeply avoided, or who he avoided, since Beauclair. He shakes his head forces his resolve within and lifts his arm in summon for the crow to land.


	8. Distant aches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little move back in time to bring up the whereabouts of another witcher and vampire after the night of the long fang. Times and POVs will shift here and there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings/Triggers:  
> N/A

_2 months after Beauclare_

Oh how he did not expect to come back so soon to this supposed land of fairytales. Yet with every lead and track he followed, Regis felt as if it was all for not with no signs of his own mule headed brother. Many times in his search, Regis has cursed himself from his own exhaustion, unable to keep hold of a trail before it has gone cold. One of his many downfalls from his slow regeneration and sadly Dettlaff knew to take advantage of that. The frustration of the recent months only served to momentarily give sudden energy but in the end only left the older vampire more drained. With no solid lead to follow, much of his thoughts drifted to a familiar white haired witcher. Each time his mind wondered to his dear friend his own chest would squeeze briefly but that common response has long been easily ignored until as of late but the growing sense of pull that has appeared has recently only grown stronger at every recall. The rising unease from the pull finally relented the older vampire to return to Mère-Lachaiselongue cemetery, the very spot he left the resting witcher before Regis departed. The vampire took to sitting in the very same spot he had only months before and stared to where Geralt had resided. His lips purse thinly at their last conversation as overall, Geralt’s state was expected with the ordeals the witcher undergone with the contract on Dettlaff. Yet when it came to question Geralt on what he said at Tesha Mutna, the witcher scowled and grumbles out how it doesn’t matter due to both Syanna and Dettlaff continue to live. Not wanting to pry and upset his friend, Regis steered the conversation to something less charged and was pleased enough to hear that Geralt will, for a time, stay at his own estate till he feels the need to return to his path. All had seemed well but only one moment seemed to draw Regis’s mind back to Geralt in worry was when the witcher finally fell into slumber. Regis knew the angle which Geralt’s head laid would ache terrible once he woke so he moved forward to the resting witcher. When he had cupped Geralt’s face his fingers seem to move at their own device as they card through the new beard the witcher had started to grow. It was when Regis chastised himself, while adjusting Geralt’s head when the witcher breathed out the vampire’s name. Regis knew his resolve was breaking down even further when Geralt seemed to nuzzle into the vampire’s palm with a frown, yet he found strength to place Geralt in a more comfortable position before drawing himself away. The frown had kept its place on the witcher while he slumbered and the sight had almost pulled the vampire to stay. Regis now finds himself kneeling at the very spot Geralt had slept on that night as he holds a grimace. A coward as usual, Regis had left before the witcher woke.

Standing back up, Regis looks to the tree full of ravens and extends an arm in summon. When one answered, the vampire whispers his instructions and the raven flew back to its brethren. Fiddling with the strap of his satchel, Regis looks over the lands of Toussaint as the setting sun bathes the land with its hues of orange and reds. Shifting from foot to foot, Regis stands a moment before he fusses at his straps again before dissipating into mist towards a certain vineyard.

Landing at the gates of Corvo Bianco, luckily with no one around to see, Regis purses his lips again. A friend can just visit another friend just to check in; it’s not something that should be hard to execute. Yet Regis digs a foot into the dirt with a hand rising to rub the back of his neck. He muses if he is just over reacting and nothing is wrong. He should leave Geralt be lest he brings any harm to his witcher. During his musing debate, the vampire left himself unguarded to the approach of another from within the vineyard.

The man clears his throat to draw the vampire’s attention. Regis turns his focus sharply to a well dressed man, from looks he his bald with dark tinted round glasses with a posture of someone more refined that a common grape vine tender.

“The master is not currently open to visitors,” the man starts with his hands pulled behind his back in a clasp, “If you have a contract then allow me to pass it along and the master witcher will respond accordingly.”

Regis mentally chastises himself momentarily for not taking note of the man’s approach before minutely pulling the corners of his lips up in a friendly manner, “I’m terribly sorry for disrupting your evening, but I do not bring a contract,” his hands grasp nervously tighter around his strap, “I was hoping to seeing my friend and to see how he fairs with his new ownership of this estate.”

The face of the man in front of the vampire does not twitch or give way to what his thoughts may be as he pauses in thought before he responds, “I see. As I said, the master is not currently open to visitors but I can pass on that you wish to see him master-..?”

“Regis,” the vampire frowns slightly at the delay to see Geralt and his unease only increases at the thought that his friend has apparently closed himself off from others, “Just Regis if you don’t mind. If you don’t mind assuming, when do you believe he will answer?”

The man’s lips press thinly against each other and a part of Regis feels impress on how well composed the man is with not letting little to no tell of his thoughts. As if each word was precisely chosen he spoke again, “it is not my position to assume my master’s wishes. I will inform you that only Lady Cirilla has permission to enter this estate without hindrance but,” The man pauses in weighing his decision and the scent of nervousness wafts of him, “I will make an exception this one time and lead you to Master Geralt. He is a man of few friends and your name was among those he spoke fondly of and I do believe a friendly face will do him well.” He steps aside and turns himself more towards the estate, “My name is Barnabas-Basil Foulty, and I am the majordomo of this estate, if you will, follow me.” Without glancing back he walks back onto the estate on a path.

For a second, Regis stood frozen to the spot with his jaw slack at the majordomo’s decision, which he quickly blinks out of to follow in suite. The vampire did not expect that someone who seems to value following set protocols, to shift them so for a stranger. This revelation gave way to gnawing worry that something must have affected Barnabas-Basil to deviate from his own guidelines.

Picking up his pace to stride aside the majordomo he gingerly pries, “For a witcher to own a home is quite unheard off. Geralt for one, I would say is more than deserving of it and I do hope he is reaping the benefits of it.” Black eyes study the side of the other’s face for any tells.

Without looking over, “he is.”

Regis’s frown only sets deeper at the plain answer. Hoping for more he casts out another line, “That is good to hear. He must have quite the number of visitors then with not only his fame but from friends.”

They round to the bottom of the stairs that lead up to the main entrance of Geralt’s home when Barnabas halts and faces Regis, “Master Geralt does indeed have numerous visitors but more so for his witcher capabilities.” Even with the spectacles, Regis could feel the man’s eyes bore into his own, “as of late, it is the one of the few reasons he takes to leave the grounds of his home otherwise he takes solitary work around his estate.”

The vampire stares back while his mind whirls at the implications of the majordomo answers. What all that has been gathered in their interactions does confirm there is indeed a reason to worry but the scale to how much is left unanswered. The silence from the vampire prompts the majordomo to continue.

“It is with my position to insure the wellbeing of my master. I may not know his past well but I know Master Geralt has been a prayer answered for many of the workers here and I intend to do what is in my power to make sure that he is not only in good health but in good spirits.” Barnabas moves a hand towards up the stairs, “now, if we may, let us continue into the house. Master Geralt should be in his study.”

The man turns to walk up the stairs to the door with Regis in tow. Opening the door, Barnabas gives a small bow before flourishing a hand into the main hall, “Welcome to the house of Corvo Bianco, Master Regis.”

Stepping in, Regis couldn’t help but gasp softly at the changes from the night he snuck in to place his gift on Geralt’s nightstand. Before, much was in left to be desired with cracked beams, hole in walls, and moth eaten cloth covering furniture that may have not fared much better. Everything has became refurbished and replaced with new wood and paint that still gave scent to being recent. Plush furniture and stands for both armor and weapons line the walls with a long mahogany dining table at the center. All was bathed in the warm light of candles, giving it a much more welcoming home environment.

“Master Geralt has put much investment into the estate when he came to ownership as before it was left unattended.” Barnabas clears his throat, “Let us make way to the study.”

Briskly walking to one of the doors, Barnabas raises a hand and raps three knocks sharply on one. Even from where Regis stands, he can hear the familiar heart beat of Geralt in the room beyond. The very sound of it adds a small ease to the vampire’s tense shoulders yet a feeling of jitters crawls through him. His ears fixate for the sound of the witcher’s voice. Regis will not admit aloud but when a gruff ‘yes’ was heard, air became easier to breath out. Without delay, Barnabas opens the door, but only half way so only he may in view.

“Apologies Master Witcher,” a grunt was the only answer and Regis could not help but smile fondly at Geralt’s standard of reply, “I understand that you wished for no visitors and it is indeed late for any. I hope you do not take offense that I took liberty of assuming that a visit from a friend would be welcomed by yourself.”

It became silent after that. Only with his own hearing, he was able to pick up a long slow inhale from within the study. No doubt that Geralt is using his senses to determine his visitor. Regis did take note that after Geralt scented the air; the witcher paused in his breathing. For those few seconds after his pause, it felt to be drawn out stretch to Regis, though in reality it just was a few seconds.

Geralt must have given sign to his majordomo when Barnabas moves to open the door completely open and remove the last visual obstacle between the witcher and vampire. Regis’s eyes immediately take in every detail of the witcher, from how his beard seems to have filled out more, albeit a bit untrimmed, bags underneath his eyes seems to have grown since their last moment together. His expression was tight with narrow eyes with Geralt’s attention first with his majordomo until it moves to Regis and his brows rise with a soft expression smoothing out the lines in his face.

Geralt opens his mouth and a beginning sound of raspiness emitted before he hastily clears his throat, “Regis?” his voice more rough than usual with a tone of disbelief. Geralt quickly straitens a couple piles of parchments on his desk as he rose up from his seat. He jerks his head to Barnabas, who stands waiting, “Thanks B.B. I can handle this from here.”

The majordomo quickly bows his head before muttering a good evening to both men and disappears out to the main hall. The sound of the front door opening and closing was the only indication that it now became only Geralt and Regis in the house. Geralt looks back to Regis but doesn’t move. Regis watches the witcher’s jaw clench slightly and makes the first move to speak.

“Hello Geralt,” Even with his worrying, a smile pulls at Regis. Discreetly he takes scent of the air and fights the urge to revel in the familiar smell that was purely Geralt which mixed with leathers, ink from writing recently, and something close to Est Est, “I do hope I am not interrupting your evening but I simply could not fight the urge to see how this vineyard is coming along under the care of not only a witcher but my dear friend.”

A low hum emits from Geralt as he moves to pour a second glass from a wine bottle and walks around his desk to hand the glass to Regis, “Just too simply visit a friend.” His eyes search at Regis, “nothing else.”

Anyone else might have missed the slight raise of tone in the witcher’s voice that held at his last two words but not someone like Regis. Nor did the vampire miss the feeling that Geralt has thrown up his guard in wait for another show to drop. A response he normally sees his friend saves for those he doesn’t trust. 

Regis takes the glass into his hand and raises it to smells it, taking way his focus of the knotting sensation in his stomach. The notes of fresh pear mixed with honey suckle with hints of citrus distracts him enough with the unpleasantness as lets the smells relax him.

“Is it so hard to believe that there are those of us who genuinely care for your wellbeing?”

Geralt takes a long drink from his own glass as he ponders his own thoughts before letting out a hum and speaking again, “What about Dettlaff?”

Regis’s eyes cast down to his drink at the straight question and weight of shame weighed over him. Air blows out his nose as he finds words to formulate that don’t seem to fight a lump in his throat but none seem to appear, “As you know I do greatly take concern in his health but for the time being it seems he will be out of reach.” Looking up not only with to meet Geralt’s eyes but a forced optimism, “It will only be sometime before I will find him and I thought back to how the ravens helped both of us with finding that spotted wight. They will surly cover much ground that I alone cannot. Why not take that time to truly catch up with you.” Regis smiles enough to show a glimmer from his fangs, “this time with nothing weighting on us.”

His answer must have satisfied Geralt enough that he returns a small smile before gesturing a nod to two chairs away from the main desk with a small table between. Taking Geralt’s queue, Regis moves towards a chair before setting himself comfortably on it. Geralt grabs the bottle of wine before moving over to the chair and sitting himself down and placing the bottle between them.

For the moment, two simply look at each other in silence. Regis feels relief wash over him as he notes the stiffness of his friend has dissipated and even the small smile still held its place. He believes that Geralt, in turn, is doing his own investigation over the vampire.

The silence interrupts with a sudden snort from Geralt, “Spotted wight, huh.” A full grin blooms across the witcher, “ever wondered what happened when I found her?”

Regis will not admit out loud, but the out of nowhere snort caught him of guard and even more so when he caught a glimmer of amusement behind those gold eyes when he spoke of the wight. Geralt’s now light mood brought out a bubbling feeling within the vampire and his own toothy grin to match the witcher.

“Her, you say?” Regis could feel the corners of his eyes crinkle up, “my, my, Geralt. Do I sense a story of a curse being broken?”

“A curse was broken and her name is Marlene—“ Geralt continues his story and for the rest of the night to the early morning, the witcher regaled his dear friend of stories of his life regarding from when he first came back to Kaer Morhen, regaining his memories, and the Wild Hunt.

_Present Time_

Dessi slept heavily after the last discussion with Dettlaff. After returning into the cave she went straight to prepare two warm bottles of milk before feeding the duo and settling back into her furs. She nodded off knowing Dettlaff had not return to their shared area and when she woke, he again, was not there. Rolling up from the furs she pushes some of them more on top of Talli and Tino, who thankfully were still out cold. A yawn tears out of her, in follow of the stretch of her arms. She marks off in her head that she did not dream once in her sleep for the first time in a long while and how her body does not ache as much.

Having time to herself for a moment, she looks off to her side to the pile of her belongings. As of yet, not of which has been touched since the witcher’s arrival. Dessi crawls over lightly to the pile and glances back to the pups. Not a stir except for one of Tino’s long ears twitching. The witcher let out a fond quiet laugh as the movement reminds her of every time Tino feeds, his ears twitch as intensely as he kneads at Dessi with every bottle. Though, compared to Talli, he is much quieter and not at all trying to hold some conversation as he drinks like his sister.

Shaking out her musing she paws through the first pack. The motion causes a small red wrap tumble to the ground with a muffling clank and she freezes. With no noise from the pups, she sighs in relief before grabbing the wrap. The movement gave way to the sound of thin metal chain moving against each other and the weight became the identity of the object. Though it was light in the physical sense, it felt much heavier to the witcher when she unwraps it to the cat medallion glaring back at her. With a disgruntled grunt she wraps the medallion back up and places it to the side and takes the first pack and sorts through her belongings.

From what she could tell, everything was accounted for and takes note that even her silver and steel blades where rolled up in a pelt. Shifting her position, she faces away from her belongings and sits with her legs folded beneath. Unrolling the pelt she picks up the sheathed silver, sliding her fingers around the familiar worn grooves of the hilt. Raising it up to her eye level, she pulls the single edge blade from its home but only halfway when Dessi grimaces at the forgotten caked on muck and blood. Sheathing it back she places it back down to grab her steel and repeats the motion, though she pulls this blade fully out and grounds the sheath. Though still poorly taken care of, the blade was not covered in much of any debris. Glancing back to the still slumbering pups, Dessi stands, grabs the sheath with one hand with blade in other. Experimentally, she twirls the sword and checks back at the pups who do not stir besides the dreaming twitches.

Shuffling through one of the packs, Dessi retrieves her sword belt and fastens it around her waist. Sheathing her blade again, she attaches the sword to her left hip with blade side facing up. Slowly, Dessi sits herself in a low stance with her left leg in the rear end. Left hand on the sheath, her right takes home on the hilt. The room was small but sparse with furnish leaving the center open, so she brings to mind of drills fitting for it. The Witcher focuses her eyes onto an invisible foe before executing a quick draw that brings her right foot back and sword in a ready stance in front of her. Only a light shing from the draw and sharp exhale was heard. Dessi cocks her head over to the pups. Still in their slumber she smiles before returning to her original position.

For several minutes, Dessi focuses herself on the different styles of draws and parries and lets the exercise take her mind to another world. Once satisfied enough, the small katas were moved to close body flourishes, short empty fades and turns. In the midst of her small workout, a pair of eyes peers from close to the wall entrance of the room unnoticed until one of Dessi parries shifts into a turn and a diagonal strike. The witcher’s cat eyes catch surprised brown eyes as she recognizes her spectator to being Jek. His body presses into the wall as if he could just disappear but otherwise he doesn’t move. Realizing that Jek was interested in watching and remembering his quiet demeanor, Dessi quirks her lips upwards and sheaths her blade and raises a palm forward in submission. Looking over her shoulder, the witcher takes note of the one small desk and chair in the room and casts her eyes back to Jek before giving a short jerk of a nod in the direction of the furniture.

Understanding the offer, the boy briskly walks over to the desk but instead of sitting on the chair, he moves to sit on the floor next to the desk. Seeing Jek settle himself down, Dessi takes break from practice to keep their eye contact before closing her own in a downward nod before opening them back up when her head raises. Jek’s mouth parts in the unexpected gesture but returns it to Dessi, though this time with a small smile. Feeling something to a winning moment, the witcher shifts back to resume her katas and draws her blade once more.

It was unknown for how much time had pass but she knows when her stomach clenches and muscles sting that she should break soon. More so to rouse the sleepyheads in her bed or nest; she has yet to decide what to call it. Even with the discomfort showing in her body, Dessi couldn’t help but throw out some of the more fancier twirls and pirouettes into her moves as her little finally gift to Jek. If the quiet gasps from his direction were any indication, he must be enjoying it. But, like many moments in her life, was cut short with a clearing of a throat.

Flashing her sword back into her hilt, Dessi turns to the entrance and feels her body go taunt with the site of Dettlaff. His arms cross around what seems to be some materials wrapped up in a large cloth. When their eyes meet, Dettlaff’s was quick to shift his own to look at Jek. Low sounding movement came from behind Dessi as Jek round her to the exit in hurry but not without turning back to her. With a shy smile, the boy bows his head before disappearing down the tunnel. Even with the boy gone, Dessi returns the bow in his direction.

Without looking to Dettlaff, Dessi moves back to the unrolled pelt and unfastens the sword belt and unhooks her sheathed blade from it. Kneeling down with her back turned to the vampire, she keeps an ear out to his movements as she works to place everything back to its previous position. Behind her she hears him move to the little desk. Her ears pick up on pieces of wood being set down along with other little clinks of small objects. It wasn’t until Dessi picks up Dettlaff’s steps nearing her did she stand and turn to see holding out a familiar tunic. His blues did not quite meet Dessi golds and she studies the fact his face was kept neutral.

Moving forward, Dessi grabs the tunic from him with care and immediately notes the changes with it. All the old crappy patch ups were replaces with fine stitches. She opens the tunic and realizes the lining of it has been replaced. Running her fingers over to new fabric on the inner tunic, a soft ‘oh’ escapes her mouth from the softness of it. Dessi shrugs on the tunic but only laces on the lower parts of it and traces her fingers over it and the soft lining warmed more than her skin from the work put into it. The witcher’s light examination was put on pause with hearing the vampire starting to move away. Shocking herself as much as she may just have shock Dettlaff, she starts forward to take his hand into hers and pause his movement to turn away.

This time she knew Dettlaff was staring at her face as she steps forward while grasping her other hand to his other empty one. Looking up, she gives a wry smile to Dettlaff who kept an unblinking stare. Most of his face remained fixed in a neutral look but his blues held wariness.

Breaking the contact, she looks to her now covered arms and an honest sense of gratefulness grew at the look of the fixed and cleaned appearance and the memories of the night before pull heavily on the witcher's mind as she remembers how those blues held hurt. Wetting her lips she meets his blues again before letting her emotions make thick of her voice.

“I am sorry for upsetting you before.” She starts, ignoring how a frustrating lump forming in her throat and focuses on Dettlaff’s expression break into unexpectedness, “I know it may sound a bit silly, but this tunic means quite a bit to me.” A squeeze was felt from Dettlaff’s hands as he shifts closer to Dessi. She ignores the sensation of tingling moving up her arms from his little squeeze and hopes he catches the sincerity in her eyes as she finishes, “Thank you Dettlaff.”

Dessi draws her hands away before he could reply as she moves to the pups who now stare out bleary eyed in search. Gathering them up she tucks them inside her tunic as she had before she met Dettlaff and closes it. With a quick mutter of ‘needing to ready the bottles’ she darts out the room, unknowingly leaving the vampire staring at his hands in wonder.


	9. Vulnerably Safe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In times of finding a place in where she fits in this pack of vampires, Dessi feels she is at her most vulnerable than she has been before. Maybe that might not be a bad thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Triggers/Warnings:  
> Blood  
> Fighting  
> Language  
> Little steaming moment

The days that followed Dessi mentally jots down not only the changes she sees but also how she feels. The more the witcher establishes her routine within the pack of vampires she now lives with, the more that they don’t bolt off at the sight of her. Every set couple of hours, the witcher sets off to a section of the cave that Dessi discovered where much of the preparations of meals were made. It must follow along close to the walls to the outside world as many small holes adorn the walls letting the smoke of the small fires out. Often, after Dessi preps the bottles, she feeds the two in the kitchen like area and finds herself more in the company of mainly an older female Ekimmara. Neither in the beginning would do more than keep wary stares and distance between them. Though it seemed that each meeting, the other vampire took effort in sitting slightly closer than before to the point that both Dessi and the Ekimmara only have to lean over a bit to brush arms. The realization dawned on Dessi that this was one of the members that originally tried to rear the two when the witcher first arrived when stern yet soft grunts would emit along with a clawed hand guiding her own to show the witcher how to ease the pups stomachs after feeding. It wasn’t known, for one that the older ekimmara could master the human speech, or that this one was even able to understand the witcher words; but when Dessi voiced her thanks, the ekimmara leaned down to press her own forehead to Dessi and gave her a short rub. From that Dessi believed that gratefulness will always be able to pass through any language barrier. For the others, mainly lesser vampires, it became less often that they would dart back down in the dark, out of sight, when the witcher catches them in her vision.

A pleased feeling always makes its way through Dessi as she takes in the growth of both Talli and Tino with their now plump stomachs from the regular feedings and their energy grow daily with their playfulness. Neither venture further pass the furs of the makeshift bed or even arm distance from the witcher, but it did not stop the tussle matches both often would get into. Often, due to Talli’s larger size, Tino would be pinned underneath and makes his grievance known quite loudly. Yet even when Talli would often win, she was quick to relent into curling up on top of her brother and nuzzling softly against him.

Dessi didn’t know when or how it started but the moments in wandering the caves and simply making her rounds to Miss Indi, caring for the pups and her gear were joined by either Anya or Jek. The two were so opposite in many ways. For instance, Jek kept mostly silent and took on in finding ways to aid the witcher in what she busies herself in or just simply follows silent and watches. Dessi finds that she takes solace in the comforting silence as she believes Jek does in same. Yet even with only the small space of time they knew each other, the witcher finds him eager to knowing information in general. Probing questions to as why her eyes were the way they were and the science of mutagens. Talking around the bitterness of the makings of a witcher was shockingly easy with the boy hanging to her every word in his innocence. The witcher discovers he favors the topics of not only the sciences but the care for the gear of the witcher. Jek’s eyes light up when things seem to click together in his head with understanding and every time Dessi witnesses it, she feels the odd tingling sensation in the back of her head that spreads about her body. The witcher concludes that she enjoys the feeling. Anya was a change from night to day but the same innocence from Jek filled Dessi with emotions that weren’t at all that bad in her mind. With Jek, Dessi manages to stay on task but the bubbly dancing girl was another story. As soon as the little alp knew the witcher to be done feeding Talli and Tino, a small hand and toothy grin would pull Dessi to wherever the girl decides is best to do. Through Anya, Dessi was able to be introduced to other members of the pack. It was mind boggling to see a whole new side of things in the daily occurrences in vampire’s life instead of focusing on weaknesses and how to kill them. It was more than any book can hold. Dessi swore in her mind that she felt the familial bonds between the all the vampires more than she saw with what she only can describe as tethers all around her. The feeling was overwhelming most of the time and the witcher kept her best to focus to only Anya as they bond. Mainly with Anya telling stories of others and becoming mortified to hear that Dessi doesn’t truly know how to braid and weave hair as she usually keeps hers cropped short. Every time the lessons would end with the girl sitting between the witcher’s legs as Dessi cards her fingers through beautiful long red hair. Only when Anya was far into drifting off to sleep, with her body leaning against Dessi with terrifyingly warming trust, would the witcher sneak a soft press of her lips on top of the girls head.

Constant pulls of fears kept whirling warnings in the witcher to not let her guard down and Dessi became more afraid in watching how easily her defenses are stripped from her in the short stay in the strange little shelter from the wide chaotic world. At the same time, that damn small voice that she fights to squash out, keeps piping up feelings that the witcher has spent years clinging to the belief that were impossible for those like her.

Since the return of her tunic and Dessi voicing her gratitude, Dettlaff was more constant in his presence yet mainly silent as he busies himself with carving small figures out of wood. In discovery through small talk, Dessi finds out that Dettlaff likes to keep his hands busy in any shape or form. As of lately, with an odd movement in her heart, his tinkering turned to crafting and repairing children toys. There were many moments where the witcher catches herself staring at his large hands as he was incredibly nimble in his work in the many small figures. The minute expressions his eyes would make when a curve of the blade in shapeless wood into works of art brim with care. Lightly fiddling her tunic along the new stitches, she comprehends that even with how she got a taste of the violence he is capable of and how quick he is to anger; Dettlaff is masking many things that Dessi herself hides. Yet even with his quick turn of emotions, the vampire is only brief in it and recedes back into moments such as these; wilting away the wood, soft voices to Jek, Anya and the other vampires, even to Dessi; reaching small smiles. It pains the witcher to see someone yearning for tenderness while struggling within. It makes her think too much.

A long sigh slips out of the witcher and the sound of carving stops. Dessi runs her fingers over the sleeping duo as they twitch in their dreams before facing the vampire while her muscles twitch restlessly. Facing Dettlaff, she sees a brow cock up as his full attention moves to her. She wonders if she could get lost in those blues of his with how they glow with emotions. The witcher reminds herself to breath and curts out smile.

“Feeling a bit cooped up.” She gives an apologetic tone, “There a stream or river close by? Want to take a whetstone and take care of those sorry excuses for blades.”

An understanding smile reaches the corners of Dettlaff’s eyes, “Go to the large storehouse and head west of it. You will reach a stream soon after you pass a rather large oak.” His lips thin and eyes turn warning “do not pass the stream. We border territories with a rather old leshen. He may tolerate some of our kin to roam his lands but I’m afraid that kindness will not extend to you.”

Dessi’s jaw drops a bit before shaking of the shock of the information and smirks, “Got it. No crossing water means no shish kebab witcher.”

Dettlaff eyes widen with stun before crinkling with mirth at her humor. He seems to pause a moment afterwards before snorting a bit through his nose as he catches the reference to what she said when they first met, “no shish kebabing allowed.”

The witcher quickly muffles her laugh in her hand at his statement while glancing at the thankfully still slumbering pups. Before anything else could be said that may send Dessi into a fit of laughter, she gathers both her silver and steal and fastens them along with belts over her tunic and moves to head out. Turning back before disappearing from Dettlaff’s sight she sees he still holds laughter in his eyes and a grin stuck in place on his face with peeks of fangs. She rather likes that look on him and with her own grin returning to him, she slips off into the dark tunnels.

The vampire was right with the short distance to a steady gurgling stream. Even with the winter starting, the sun held its strong rays that fit perfectly with the cool air. The large oak itself sat on a knoll nearby with wide spreading roots that just beg to be sat by. She stores away a thought to take some time to bring either Jek or Anya out here just to enjoy the scenery.

Kneeling at the water’s edge she sets to first tend to her steel blade. In the few moments, Dessi’s mind turns numb with its focus as she strokes the blade across the stone. With having no pressing matters or hunts to focus on, she takes her time in languid peace. The sounds of the sliding blade coupled with natures own song was a soothing balm. Dessi to appreciation in it with how nothing but the moment of her time is the sole focus; it was a silent blessing to not have weighted thoughts in this.

Earlier she managed to find some forgotten oil in the storehouse and snatched it before leaving. Feeling a bit giddy with growing cleanliness of her blade she applies a thin coat of oil over the whetstone. The motion of rocking to and fro with the blade lulls the witcher into a peaceful numbness. Time passes till she felt satisfied with her steal and the witcher lifts the blade in admiration of its shine and its exposed edge.

Sheathing it back up and placing it to her side she switches to her silver and pulls it out of its home and winces. Yup still shitty like the last time she checked. The latest victims, being nekkars, laid a number on it not too long back. She thumbs the collar of the blade as she notices the rather large crack in it. Now that she muses on about it, a rather vicious nekkar warrior managed to deflect some of her swings. A grunt passes her lips, didn’t do much good for the nekkar in the end when she cleaved it in two.

With the same attention she gave her steel, she begins her care for her silver. After quite some work, the grime gave way to shine and the moves to polish it when the telltale warning came with the sounds of birds becoming silent. Ceasing her movements, her senses stretch out as her mutagens kick up and the hairs on the back of the witcher’s neck hackle up. Distantly the sounds of padded running grew and with abrupt change in position, Dessi moves into a ready crouched position with her silver in hand. Mouth parting, she joins her sense of smell with the taste of a familiar metallic tang and inhuman tones in the air.

Vaulting across the stream manifests a fleder in panic. Its disheveled appearance brought light to its gashes on its flank along with old puncture wounds that dawns to Dessi of the young male fleder that Anya introduced the witcher to only days past. To her surprise, it dashes to her side as her body freezes to his desperate clawing hands cling to her side. Far off further west a low raising roar shakes the trees joining with a frantic screech.

Many creatures roar but the longer the witcher travels their path, the easier it becomes to identify the caller. The rumble in the low roar and with it lacking a certain howl a leshen creates stretches a sneer on the witcher. Either a chort or fiend and a very unhappy one at that. The piercing shriek Dessi knows by heart to be a lesser vampire in pain. Claws yank to her side as she looks to wide frantic red eyes.

“Shit.” Dessi curses as she cups her free hand to the fleder’s muzzle and presses her forehead to his, “Get Dettlaff while I go play keep-a-way.”

The fleder gives a low whine before scampering off to the opposite direction of the fight and the witcher sprints off to it. In her haste, she cringes in thought that she is about to battle barefooted with flimsy pants and a patched tunic. With the possible imminence of being shredded apart soon she huffs through her run.

“Shit happens.”

Luckily finding the source was easy part as she nears the recently cleared area full of knocked down trees to a thrashing fiend and another scurrying fleder. Each time it leaps to a tree the fiend crashes through and knocks it over. Seeing the vampire tire, Dessi closes in and casts a quick flings an igni to the fiends flank. Stumbling back from the sudden flames the beast rears its head to the witcher with a snarl.

Dessi widens her stance hand flairs out her arms in a challenging motion, baring her own teeth back to the fiend. Keeping her eyes on the beast she shouts, “Get back to Dettlaff! I got this!”

The fleder escapes the corner of her eyes as it flees and she brandishes her silver blade, “C’mon you fuck!”

Taking her taunting, it barrels forward in a charge, roaring as it rushes. Rolling to her side, she escapes its lowered horns and she digs fingers into the ground to leap back forward to slash at its side. Blood spurts from the opening and the beast roars. Dessi flings a quen up as it bucks to its side, catching Dessi and flinging her. Twisting in the air, she lands lightly back on her feet. As the fiend stomps the earth in preparation of another charge, Dessi grins at the sight of its third eye closed and leaking from being slashed previously by one of the fleders; less work for her.A wild idea springs in the witcher’s mind as she beats the fiend in charging first. She feels her blood sing with adrenaline. Not wanting to be out done the fiend retaliates with its own.

Switching the blade into a reverse grip as they near, Dessi waits to the last second to veer off to its right and moves to spear the silver blade into its neck.

It jams in but the witcher was met with a jarring pain as she misjudges the lower parts of its antler. It catches the back of her tunic and thrashes around as the beast bellows in pain. A sudden fling and Dessi finds herself air born.

Air knocks out of the witcher’s body as she smacks into the ground. For a moment, everything spins in her vision as Dessi sucks air forcibly back into her. Coughing, she staggers her way back up to her feet and looks to her…not there blade? Only the hilt remains in hand.

“Fuck,” she wheezes and looks to the enraged fiend as it claws to its neck at the broken counterpart. The section of the blade is thrown free and lands in the dirt as the beast’s neck runs red. In desperate need to have a weapon, Dessi shoots for the silver while discarding the hilt in a mad dash. The beast bounds itself to intercept.

Diving into a slide, Dessi rolls over the blade and fists a hand around it as the beast thunders past and crashes into more trees. Stinging pain blooms in her hand from the blade as she stands back up, wincing from the earlier crash landing. The fiend nods its head side to side as it re-orientates itself back to the witcher. Blood streams from its neck but the slash to the side seems to have already sealed. Luckily for Dessi, the beast wobbles. It is wearing out.

Not hearing anything coming to intervene, Dessi scrambles to think of a way to end the fight swiftly. She rather not test her luck too much. Glancing behind her at the trees and thinks to the fleder leaping into the trees before musing a thought out loud.

“Well maybe test luck just a bit more,” She stomps the ground with a foot at the fiend and shouts to it in provocation. It accepts the challenge as it rears and vaults forward into a gallop.

Making a one eighty, Dessi bee-lines for the trees and the fiend closes distance. With a tree picked out she starts a running climb up and digs her free hand into the bark. As expected, the fiend crashes through the tree and the witcher flips into the air and lands on the back of the beast.

Fisting the fur, she clings on and locks her thighs around its neck. With her legs pinning around it, she moves to grasps the broken blade with both hands and stabs downward into the third eye as it rears again with its unwanted rider.

The silver sinks in the eye while pain shoots from the witcher’s hands as its edges slices in. Ear piercing shrieks deafen the witcher’s ears and the fiend bucks wildly in its mad attempt to free itself. Barring her teeth, Dessi roars and moves one hand up and slam back down the broken end of the blade. It sinks deeper and the fiend gives its final rear and lurches back too far. It continues to fall back and Dessi braces for the moment to becoming crushed beneath it. A force grabs her and everything spins.

Dirt lies beneath her back and the witcher whips her eyes to frighten wide blues. She focuses her efforts to calm her panting when Dettlaff leans his head on to hers and she realizes his body is shaking.

“Dessi,” his voice breaks and his eyes hold on her own. She can taste the fear rolling off of him and it creates a sick twist in the gut. Moving her arms to wrap around him a broken noise slips out of her from the pain in her hands.

A fist in her tunic pulls her up into a sitting position as the vampire strips his shirt off his back and makes quick work to binding her hands within them staunching the blood from flowing freely. Large nimble hands skim across her body in examination. His eyes look up and down her body but refuse to meet back to her own eyes. She watches in stun suspense as his jaw both clenches and unclenches over and over.

“Dettlaff,” Dessi hushes out worriedly. He doesn’t give inclination of response as he continues feather prodding of his fingers until Dessi grimaces and drops his shirt to grasp his forearms. Muscles twitch beneath her bleeding hands but she keeps her grip, “look at me.”

His eyes lock back to hers and she continues, “I’m sorry for risking myself. I could not sit back and listen to a member of your pack possibly get killed.” She shifts closer and one knee places itself on the outer side of his thigh and the other between his own knees as she leans close, “I’m sorry for being so reckless.” She pulls a hand bloody up to brush shaky knuckles against his cheek, “thank you for saving me again.”

Dettlaff’s eyes flutter at the contact of her hand and he shifts his to lock fingers around her wrist. A long string of air flows out of the vampire and his shoulders drop and he eyes the slices on the palm with a frown. Thoughts were seen moving in his eyes as he looks back to Dessi again.

His voice more firm this time around after his throat bobs, “Vampire saliva can help with clotting the blood and promote healing.” He pauses as she takes in the information and Dessi feels there is a catch to it. A wry smile pulls at Dettlaff’s lips in attempt to ease his next words, “when our saliva enters your system,” he clears his throat, “It can prove uncomfortable.”

Nervous energy waves off of Dettlaff and Dessi moves to grab his other hand with a squeeze, “I trust you.”

As if her words struck him, a small noise is heard in the back of his throat and he pulls her other hand close to him.

With one more glance to Dessi for second thoughts, he shifts his focus to her palm. A pink tongue lands a slow long stroke across her wounds and Dessi hisses at the sting before blinking at the sudden warmth that streamed from her hand moving throughout her body. She sighs out before flushing at the deep groan from the vampire.

Blue eyes glow through lowered eyeslids as Dettlaff works his tongue over and shifts to the cuts on her fingers. A strained whimper escapes from Dessi at the discovery of her sensitivity when the vampire flicks his tongue over the webs between her fingers. Aches from the fight become forgotten as moan slips from Dettlaff in reply to Dessi’s struggle. The sound creates a pleasant coil and she bites her lip in hopes to ignore the unexpected throbbing sensation that spurs between her thighs and the witcher fights to suppress the telling of her body’s want, even when she realizes the losing battle from the smell of arousal tickling her nose.

As he laps up the last straying droplets of blood on one hand he peers back for sings of protest. Blown out pupils in those blues of his makes difficulty to not lose herself in a daze. Flexing her licked hand, Dessi gasps at the lack of pain and finds herself in awe at the closed cuts. Though momentarily free from Dettlaff’s ministrations of his tongue, it did not mean freedom of lapse of judgment.

Curling her fingers, they brush the cheek of the black haired vampire. Dettlaff’s eyes close, his brows furrow deeply in his pause before turning to kiss the palm after then bringing the other hand to his lips, only hitching his movement for a second as he opens his eyes again to continue the same ministrations.

As he continued, he kept the healed hand close his face. She wonders if he realized that his thumb was circles on the back of it. Dessi kept her eyes focused on her healed hand as much as she could but curious glances slip past her control to view the new expose skin from the lack of his shirt. She knew him to already having a broad chest but she worries the bottom of her lip at the shift of muscle beneath the skin. Even with being on the thin side, probably from loss of weight recently, she could not stop her admiration in her mind of much strength he has hidden away. Dessi wasn’t sure if it was the state of arousal or what, but she swore that something ethereal moves just underneath the curly black hairs on his chest.

A stray thought came through to run her fingers over it and follow the happy trail that led further down to a growing scent of salty sweet musk before she pinches her teeth harder on her lip. In the end, she closes her eyes and waits before getting lost in thought of the feel of his circling thumb on one hand and his tongue on the other.

The witcher must have been further gone in her mind that she thought when startling gentle fingers curled under her chin, breaking her from her own little world. Dessi eyes snap back open when a pad of a thumb coaxes her lower lip from her teeth. She feels a flushing warmth growing on her face as the vampire watches his thumb brush over her sore lip.

Sliding his eyes up to hers a low rasps comes out in his voice, “careful.” Within those blues of his held a deep intense heat and her curious mind wonders to his exact meaning for the word.

Every action he has made thus far was with such sincere care that bubbles something worryingly in Dessi, yet even that did not stop her hand raising to trace the back of his forearm to the hand that held her face. Grasping the back of it she opens his palm up and keeps her eyes on his as she dips to press a soft kiss to his hand.

Yet even with the intimate moment, Dessi couldn’t help but crack out with a lop sided grin, “no shish kebab witcher today,”

Understandably unexpected, Dettlaff gawks before striking Dessi with rich laughter that she pins her mind to make sure she can make him laugh like that again. His captured hand escapes to thread his fingers in her hair on the back of her head as he pulls her forward to place his forehead to hers with both relief and mirth in his eyes. 

His soft voice puffs air over her as Dettlaff says, “I am happy you are here.”

An intruding prickling sensation attacks the corners of her eyes at the genuine words along with a coiling sensation in her chest. Unsure if she felt this way before in her stay with him, she winds her own hand through his soft curls as Dessi makes no mistake to her own feelings in this moment and she feels the short start of vibrations start in her chest, “I’m happy that I’m here too.”

A pleasing hum sounds off from him as the vampire shifts to brush his nose against hers. Dessi feels more than hears Dettlaff start to say her name when she finds herself moved abruptly into being cradled in his lap and a hand moves her head to tuck her in the crook of his neck. She felt the change of skin and muscle beneath her shift yet could not move in his hold to look at Dettlaff.

A dangerous growl is felt rolling through him and the witcher struggles to free herself when she feels magic raise the hair on her arms. Slow walking from where only Dettlaff can witness it, Dessi strains her hearing when a reverberating moan similar to a wind bending trees in an approaching storm followed by feathered wings flapping and choruses of cawing. The witcher’s jaw clenches as she wishes to smack herself in forgetfulness. _‘Right grumpy leshen past the stream.’_

She feels Dettlaff snarl before giving a surprising ‘oh’ at recognizing he is speaking in a tongue she couldn’t decipher. Though when she hears the crows chanting the word ‘leave’ the message could not be clearer.

It seems Dettlaff was not keen in letting Dessi walk for herself as he stands with the witcher still gathered in his arms like some damsel. Any other times this would happen, Dessi would not have been afraid of making a snarky comment but when the low worrying rumble kept going through the vampire, Dessi believes to keeping her mouth shut.

Once she hears him walk through the shallow stream, Dessi shifts to wrap her arms around his neck while keeping her face buried in the crook of his neck. The heat from his body seeps into hers and she shivers. His own arms squeeze around her in response and she breaths in the familiar scent of his musk underneath the sandalwood and fresh forest. Even with being stripped of her silver and her shoddy mismatched gear Dessi felt the safest she has been in a long time. Even the armor built mentally inside her seems to break away with less panic. 

Dessi mumbles into his neck, “thank you.”

It was sometime after when they entered the abandon human settlement, but Dessi picks up his voice, as if he said so more to himself than to her, “happy you are here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: this is my first time writing anything that gets a little steamy. I hope to do well in the future chapters =D


	10. Longing souls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little bit more with Regis/geralt and more other vamp interactions for Dessi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it has taken so long to post this chapter. I just got a new job and holy melitele, jumping to 10 hour shifts from 0 is quite a change. That, and quite a few triggers that I did not put thought in before taking up housekeeping kind of hit me sideways. Anyways...  
> Triggers/warnings:  
> none

_2 months after Beauclair_

The skies had already begun to lighten when Regis had returned the cemetery and as much as the barber surgeon would have loved to stay, he needed time to reflect. Breezing down into the crypt, a crooked smile grows when he materializes in his former living quarters. Geralt spoke true during the conversation only hours before and had moved all of his belongings into his own estate during Regis’s absence. He shuffles a bit, fingers gliding over empty and now dusty shelves before closing his eyes over the exchange concerning of his belongings.

_Though Geralt could not blush from the liberal drinking they both partaken in, his blood gave a sweet siren call of alcohol coursing within. Yet the call was no pull of hunger but a beacon to the life of the man the barber surgeon has given his life for before and would again if the call arises. The capillaries and arteries expanded in the reaction of the intake and the witcher’s heart gave such a pleasant rising flutter. If Regis was not already buzzed from the wine, he might have believed that Geralt’s heart would, at times, danced faster when the witcher’s focus was on the vampire’s tales of recovery. Or was he focused on something else?_

_Geralt was talking now but Regis’s ears could not but keep in tune to the thrumming in his friend’s chest. The very same heart as all those years ago he thought just to reach out and lay a palm above and treasure the organ that has kept someone so important to the vampire, alive. It would be just a little lean and extend of the ar—_

_‘-gis?”_

_Catching his name being mentioned, Regis’s eyes flash back up to Geralt’s. For the moment, both simply stared at one another. Idly, the vampire thought to offer a trim for his friend. The beard, as complementary as it is to Geralt’s face, could use a bit of sprucing and some fingers running through and may-_

_Geralt shifts to move straighter in his chair with pinched brows and Regis catches that he wandered in thought again._

_“This White Wolf, as you have well aptly named, seems to make one thoughtful,” Regis’s lips quirk up before he notices Geralt’s eyes look heavy lidded, “It appears we have talked through the whole night. You should get your rest my friend.”_

_Regis moves to stand and Geralt springs up suddenly, catching the vampire unguarded in the witcher’s haste, “You can stay in the guest room.” The insisting tone laced words rooted Regis to the spot he stood and Geralt clears his throat abruptly with a hand rubbing the back of his neck. The whole display filled Regis with fuzzy warmth in his friend’s awkward display of kindness._

_“As tempting of an offer, I believe I will have to turn down your kind will.” Regis couldn’t help his eyes when they crinkle at the witcher._

_Geralt crosses his arms with his lips pressed together before giving a smile similar to a child caught taking a cookie, “your stuff is here.”_

_The vampire’s brows knit together before he crooks out a smile enough to let some fangs show, “Oh, did they wander over here? Or did they have some help?”_

_The witcher’s face scrunches up and gruffs out, “Regis, didn’t want to leave them to the chance of robbers taking them. Moved them over so i-“ he catches himself, “When you came back, your stuff would be safe.”_

_The pausing in the witcher’s words hitches a breath in Regis, halting any more teasing, “Geralt,” an affectionate tone builds in his words, “where would I be if I was without your kind heart?” A scoff and a roll of the eyes from Geralt draws out a lighthearted reprimand reply, “Tsk, tsk, none of that my dear friend” Regis moves to closer to clasp his hands over the witchers arms and peers deeply into the witcher’s eyes. He squeezes firmly to emphasize his next words and tries to not fumble from the sick knot forming in his stomach from recent memories of the ruins, “To think that your actions to quell my brother’s anger could have possibly cost me so dearly and cost your own life is not something lightly set aside.” Emotions whirl loudly within and the vampire sucks in air slowly when Geralt moves his hands to mimic Regis’s, “I truly do not know where I would have been if I had lost you.”_

_Who knows how long it was when the two simply stared into each other’s eyes after the vampire’s words. Regis did not miss the clenching and unclenching of the witcher’s jaw, as his friend searches for something to say._

_With a pat of his hands over Regis’s arms, Geralt curts out a sharp smile as he kept looking at Regis but his expression turns soft when he speaks assuringly, “You would have been fine,”_

_Regis did not know what shook him the most, Geralt’s words or how much of sincere belief was laced within them. Briskly, the vampire took a step back in the uncertainty of what to say at Geralt’s statement before wincing mentally at his words, “If I am not intruding too much on your time, I would like to return the following evening.”_

_Brushing off Regis’s quick step back, Geralt seems to have forgotten the heavy tension of the air when his eyes light up at the vampire’s request to return later, “You are always welcomed here Regis. You helped me with in all of this and I think the alchemist lab below us would suit you better than it would me.”_

_The vampire smiles past his uneasy feelings that churn within him before nodding to Geralt, “Till the evening Geralt.” With a step further back, Regis mists away in black and blue, leaving his friend to his own device once more._

Regis’s face pinches into a scowl at the end of the memory. There was clearly more that should have been said and again, being a coward, he runs off. His back slides against the walls when he sits down, laying his forearms over his pulled up knees and leaning his head backwards, resting on the rough surface. Frustration creeps out in a long sigh and a hand moves to pinch the bridge of his nose before sliding down over his mouth and further to prop underneath his chin.

Time seems to blur by as black eyes stare off to nowhere in particular. A thought of mandrake floats in his mind and the vampire’s eyes snap wide that is joined by a spreading grin.

Out loud to no one, he announces with renewed energy, “Nothing like a snifter to lay the cards out.”

_Present time_

With a rueful smile, Dessi had given her tunic back to Dettlaff for the large tear on the back, courtesy of the fiend. Another gift the beast gave was a large bloom of black and purple bruise crossing her upper back which sparked another bout of worrying prodding from the black haired vampire.

They sat back in their room, Dessi’s shirt hiked up over her shoulders, her back exposed to worried murmurs behind her. “Dettlaff,” she soothes out, “There is nothing to do about it.” Shifting around she faces Dettlaff as she lowers her shirt back over her body, “It’ll heal on its own.”

Dessi watches Dettlaff purse his lips and huff through his nose with a bit of tender amusement. The glower he gives serves only to have Dessi smile.

“You witchers have potions to aid your healing,” Dettlaff tilts his head in an innocent motion, still holding his pinched expression. Dessi finds it comically cute.

“We do,” She leaves a pause, as if to not say more, it serves to deepen his scowl. “And no, I do not have any swallow on me.” Giving a moment to think back, her lips sets in a thin line, “I downed my last vial weeks ago. Never bothered to brew anymore.”

She watches his face gloom at her admission and slides over to lean her side to his, turning her head to rest chin on his shoulder. The new vantage point gave light to what Dessi could not put a finger on till now. It couldn’t be the trick of the light in the subtly less grays in Dettlaff’s hair or how some wrinkles seem to be more shallow. Dessi decides to mark the changes for questioning later as her action prompts an arm circling around the middle of her back, faltering a bit in motion, and shifts Dessi flush with his still shirtless body, Dettlaff stares owlishly to her.

Observing his surprise to her closeness, she talks low and soft, with absolute certainty, “That’s going to change.”

She feels the stiffness drain from his body and watches a widening grin curve his lips. His eyes gleam with her declaration and the arm that is wrapped around her, tightens into a hug.

The noise that builds from his chest has Dessi thinking of a low purr as it resonates out of him. She couldn’t help but think of him as a large happy cat at the moment.

His low timbre voice pulls her attention, “I am glad that you decided so.”

Without warning, Dettlaff drops his arm away from Dessi and shifts to ready to stand, his face turns with determination written across, “What ingredients do you require for this swallow?”

The sudden change Dettlaff went through throws Dessi off kilter but his determined look spurs fondness within her as she replies, “Well, some things may be difficult to get but if you have parchment and ink, I’ll be glad to write down what we will need.”

In a blink of an eye, Dettlaff mists off and grabs the items before flying back to make a list and when Dessi goes to explain what certain herbs looked like, he smiles and said that he knew. Before she could ask where or who he learned it from, he was already gone. It left the witcher in the room with the two pups to their own devices.

Staring with a dumbfound expression, Dessi chuckles and shakes her head. There was something that was innocent or even childlike in Dettlaff’s actions that Dessi feels she won’t ever be able to stop finding it endearing. The blunt honesty from the vampire’s actions and words were nothing like the people of her past. Dessi muses on these thoughts while crawling over to the wriggling pups. She still feels the weariness of the whole situation but it is also being met with the craving need to indulge herself in something that feels so true. A downward tug pulls her lips before a more forceful lift pushes them up into a small thin smile. Even if this all turns out a ruse, she might as well enjoy it while it lasts.

Scooping up the pups in a pelt, she hugs them to her chest and makes her way over to the kitchen area. Smirking to herself as she walks at the fact that now she finds a sense of security in the scents of the vampires that fill the caves. If someone would have said this would be the case a couple weeks ago, she would have scoffed. She would also probably kill them too after she finished laughing. There was also a growing itch inside of the witcher, yet she could not put a finger on what it is. It grows when she watches the other lesser vampires’ interactions. The intimacy of it all gave an off-putting strange pull.

Once she had entered the kitchen area, prepped the bottles, and sat down to begin feeding them, is when, as if a switch was flipped, her body and mind felt heavy. If this was all to be a dream, Dessi wishes that she may never wake from it. As of yet, no nightmares have plagued her slumber since her stay with the pack of vampires. Falling into a nap held less apprehension than before and more often she wakes more rested than before. She idly adjusts her hands during the bottle feedings as a feeling of falling backwards into a doze pulls her. The sounds of claws scurrying the grounds and various noises from the other residents had lost its priority of alertness. In fact it was becoming a soothing background noise that gave comfort when Dessi falls to sleep.

The lack of vigil the witcher normally gave as she rests becomes an opportunity to closing movements to her person. Far away thoughts were shrugged off to the likelihood of the older ekimma, or Matri, as Dessi mentally refers her to be, approaching to sit near. Her arms automatically pull Talli and Tino to her chest after feeling them wriggle about. Dessi’s mind floats away when a soft chuff and a brush of a muzzle? Against her cheek stirs a noise from her. The noise causes a pause briefly before what she hears to be a huff and an exciting whine and whoever to rub their muzzle more enthusiastically against her cheek again with a feel of large teeth and saliva adding to the mix.

Blinking rapidly she side eyes the vampire who realizes the witcher is awake. The young fleder from the creek. He pulls away before pushing back forward to nose itself to her face. Red eyes shine at sleepy yellow cat ones and Dessi feels the fleder paw gently over her body, his claws curl gingerly to pull the witcher closer. A strange warm tingle builds from the back of Dessi’s head and travels down her spine and as if on its own accord, another noise burrs out of the witcher. She hears a quick chatter and clinking of his teeth joined by another, she realizes, is nearby. Dessi feels that strange itch was back again and with a tentative yet intently, the witcher moves her cheek across the young fleder’s jaw, around his cheek before nosing the crook of his neck. She closes her eyes as she feels more than hear the cooing trills emit from the fleder and his hands snug her into an embrace.

Warmth, it’s what all came in her head, a blanket of warmth. Not only in the physical sense of the heat the fleder gave off, but akin to a quilt wrapping over her mind. A sense of buzzing grows in her chest and throat. One that hasn’t happened in quite a long while. It grows louder at the kneading from not only from the fleder’s claws on her back, but from the pups nuzzled to her chest as well. Dessi’s mind fogs again as everything feel unwinding within her. The other vampire she hasn’t distinguished yet is felt circling behind and enveloping its own body around them. Teeth and fangs graze her upper back and neck, but thus far it did not alarm her but did pull a disgruntled murmur when her bruise felt the pressure. A quick high whine behind her is followed by long quick wet strokes on what she pings as a tongue, flicks over her upper back.

Dessi tries to chew through her memory to the last time she felt like she was in a cocoon of affection, heartfelt care? Connective? No word revealed to be all encompassing or any memory of such surfaced. Instead a panic flight flung out in her emotions at the rising distress of it. A low keen breaks out from deep within the witcher. She felt as if she is in pain but why should she? The bodies around her press more firm to her. Dessi hears them, the fleders, they are mixing between soft chirrs and high trills, as if calling out. Or was she making some of those noises? Is she shaking? Or is she being rocked? Dessi vaguely senses that there are more vampires near her till sudden cold air hits where the young fleders drew back hastily.

Blinking widely, she gasps sharply. While she was lost in the huddling, the witcher did not register Matri or several other vampires entering the kitchen area. Some to be just out of arms distance. A large garkain crawls to Matri with questioning grunts. From how some of the other lesser vampires look to the garkain, Dessi pins him to be of one of alpha status, even though he seems to seek answers from Matri with how he glances from her to the witcher. Matri focuses her eyes to Dessi before a sharp, almost ordering like hiss shoots out of her. A gray katakan with some of the gaudiest jewelry that Dessi has ever had seen before, crawls languidly to her before sitting in a crouch position with his head craning down to look at her with solid black eyes. Tilting her head back, she meets his gaze and feels Talli and Tino worm in her arms to clamor up onto her shoulders.

It was like being smacked at the back of her head at the sizable difference from herself to most of the other vampires here. Her main interaction being with her own pups, Anya, Jek, and Dettlaff compared to her current situation is an all too loud reminder that a wrong move here would be the end of this witcher. However she feels at the sobering thoughts is removed when the said katakan leans forward and knocks his head to Dessi and moves down to rub his cheek to hers. It was like the beginning all over again with the warm tingle from the back of her head and down her neck and back. Her eyes flutter close with a soft noise from the back of her throat. Dessi feels the katakan move his hand and it only when she felt said hand press against her that she opens her eyes again. His hands curl around something, with his palm facing down. Curiously she extends her own hand after adjusting her hold on the pups and a small object falls into her waiting hand.

A small charm, from a bracelet perhaps with strands of the katakan’s fur tangled around it. The action click to her mind that it was one of the jewelry braided into his fur; before she could look up and thank him, he already moved away. Another vampire replaces him and it became a repeat of the head bumping, cheek rubbing as another follows behind. Matri and the garkain watch from the side and when Dessi stares to them with wide eyes, they only slowly squint theirs before widening them again.

Utterly lost in the meaning of what is happening, Dessi opens her mouth before a familiar light voice beats her in an answer.

“Well this proves you witchers can be quite interesting,” cat eyes jerk to sharp sapphire blue as Serphae strides in as she ties her ink black hair in a pin. The bruxa once overs Dessi’s form before crossing her arms with one hand lifted to cup her own chin in a pondering manner, “unless it’s the case that you are an anomaly, though I never have heard of witchers communing in the tongue of our lesser kin, let alone mentally project like we do.”

Dessi’s jaw drops and her own stun confusion leads Serphae to speak further with raising a brow, “you are aware of this? No you’re not or you wouldn’t give me that expression in the first place.”

Finding her words after digging into her mind, Dessi finally spoke, “you mean like purring?” Looking back to the other vampires who all sit waiting, all looking at the witcher, absolutely lost with the whole situation, she adds “what just happened?”

Serphae simply walked forward before crouching down eye level to Dessi and spoke almost accusingly, “You happened, saving your Talli and Tino. Calling out for them when we first took them from you,” the bruxa halts at Dessi’s bewildered look, “Dettlaff did not tell you that apparently. You broadcast like a broody new mother. Anya and Jek can’t seem to stop talking about you to the others and don’t give me that look. Jek can speak at lengths at what fascinates him and you are one of them.” Serphae breaks to shake her head in disbelief, “and if that’s not all, you charge yourself at a fiend very much underequipped, and very much would of died for one of our own if Dettlaff had not intervened. They accept you as their own, witcher. That is what happened.”

Confusion, fear, a spike of adrenaline in need to find space burns in the witcher’s veins but it was as if roots held her to the ground. Memories of going through the second round of the trials flash in her mind’s eye. Not much in images but more in the painful agony in it all. She needed air. She needed _him_ but _he’s_ not here because of her.

She cups Dessi’s chin in a firm grip before leaning in, flaring her nose as she smells the witcher, “At first smell, your scent is like a bastardization of human, magic and us ‘monsters’, yet a strong part of it is familiar to us. More vampiric in nature.” Dessi tries to jerk her head away but Serphae moves both hands to either side of her face and locks the witcher in place despite Dessi attempts to make distance. The bruxa’s nails dig into her cheeks. Serphae’s coolly continues as she refuses to let Dessi to drop eye contact, “Your very being cries out as wayward soul, lost, yearning for a connection.”

All Dessi could think of tunnels in on finding a way to get out of the situation, a way to put distance in all of this. Did she spur these vampires to do this? Is this wrong? A maelstrom of thoughts and the witcher feels as if a ship caught in a storm. It was as if the bruxa was digging at every hidden corner of her mind. At last, Serphae lets Dessi go and the witcher falls on her bum. It jostles her out of mind and Dessi jerks her hands to grab her pups and gather them back to her chest. Having their bodies flush to hers became a sort of sense of security as of late. Curling over them, she fusses their fur and tucks their heads underneath her chin before looking back to Serphae.

With a brokenly soft voice, “I don’t know what to do. Tell me what to do.”

It was the first time Dessi sees Serphae’s expression break from its usual contempt look she had for the witcher. The vampire reaches out again but grabbing firmly around Dessi’s upper arm, tugging her to stand. While on their feet, Dessi finds that Serphae is a couple inches taller than her and watches warily when the bruxa raises a hand and moves it to her. She feels her skin jump when Serphae places her hand in her hair and combs her fingers through the witcher’s tangled mess.

Seeing the witcher flinch, Serphae’s expression twists into a scowl but not at the witcher, “like a stray dog. Beaten by your past owners and unable to handle the kindness of others, you wait for one of us to raise our hands to you.” Dessi’s tongue hung like lead in her mouth. No smart comeback or any words would come out for the matter. The bruxa spots it and clucks herself, “I will never understand you humans.” Moving to stand next to Dessi, she nudges the witcher forward, “come on, you are going to lie down and sleep for now.”

Following guiding hands, Dessi is led back to the bed chamber and within moments she is laying under blankets of fur. Oddly, the bruxa did not leave. Serphae sat down near the witcher and ran her fingers through Dessi’s hair with gentle claws. The sensation lulls the witcher’s eyes close and Dessi drifts off again back into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know how you guys like it. Any and all criticisms are welcome for my first chapter fic. Will try to keep a once a week chapter upload. I honestly am proud that I have written so much and enjoy all that I have came up with.


	11. Bitter Saudade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saudade definition: a deep emotional state of nostalgic or profound melancholic longing for an absent something or someone that one cares for and/or loves. Moreover, it often carries a repressed knowledge that the object of longing might never return

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning/Triggers:  
> Blood  
> Language  
> Sexual themes  
> memories of abuse  
> sense of drowning
> 
> Let me know if I missed any.

_A pleasurable haze, two bodies move against each other, Familiar scars, scents, husky low laughter. A calloused hand moves from her breast down her body to between her thighs and her claws dig into his shoulders. A drawn out moan when his fingers curl._

_A breathless chuckle, “easy kitten.” Lips dance the corners of her own till she tilts to cover them. Her body rocks into his hands, everything felt like fire from his touch. Dessi slips out a tongue, dancing over the grooves of the scar that mar over the top of his lip before impatiently nipping harshly to his lower one. A sharp sting yanks her head back along with her yelping._

_“Said easy,” he snarls. She whimpers while looking back to his yellow cat eyes. Somewhere, in the recess of her mind, bells went off. Something is wrong but he is here. Days old stubbles, moppy brown hair. Just how she remembers. She lets out another low whine and he smirks, “Always so impatient kitten.” He leans in to press a kiss to her lips. She tries to kiss back but he pulls away too quickly, “always fighting back like some feral beast.” He releases his grip from her hair and caresses his hand around her face, gentle and slow. A thumb traces the bottom of her lip. His touch burns but she feels a chill shooting down her spine. Something is wrong. She tries to say his name but it feels as if she is drowning and her limbs feel as if they are lead. His expression changes into a sneer as his hands move to her throat, “Haven’t I already told you that I know what’s best for you?” his grips down harshly. The bed she thought she was on turns into water, her upper body submerges instantly underneath. She can’t breathe! Her body won’t move now. Dessi gapes open her mouth but only bubbles exit yet his voice still sounds as clear as day, “now look what you have done.” The water tinges with red. No. NO! She knows why. But why did he lie to her? He continues to speak as the water keeps turning redder and darker, “I’m the only one that could love you because I know you.” She tries to scream, tries to fight. Nothing works and her lungs burn as she chokes around the bloody water. “This is what you deserve. You always fuck everything up” She can’t see him anymore._

_She tries to thrash, she needs to get free. Her arms feel as if they are tied down. She was supposed to help them! Their dead and now he’s dead. It’s all her fault! She needs him! He’s right! She screams._

Panic eyes fly open along with a strangled shout. There were hands holding on over her upper arms and she started to thrash. The hands let go and Dessi shoots up only to crash into somebody who wraps their arms around her. The witcher tries to jerk away and a hand moves up to the back of their head and fingers card through as they pull her to them. She freezes at it and her breathing hitches. Dessi tries to blink into focus when a soft low rumbling voice halts her. “Hush Dessi,” she finally registers Dettlaff to be holding her, “You are safe. I am here.” His claws tickle her scalp as his other arm wraps firmly around the mid of her back.

Dessi’s eyes flutter close as she focuses to steady her breathing as she feels herself being rocked to and fro. Dettlaff continues to murmur soft words as she realizes that her face became buried in the crook of his neck and she takes a long slow inhale. Wood dust, some herbs of something recently, the forest; she couldn’t help the thought of the mountains with a cabin. A familiar tangy musk underneath it all. Her arms wrap around his mid section, feeling the old wool shirt he must have washed earlier after the fiend incident. She flattens her palms to his back and turns her focus of the slow and strong heartbeat, thrumming within. The witcher desperately clings the safe feeling that she finds in the caring vampire.

When Dettlaff heard about the events that happened after he left to gather ingredients for swallow, a pleasing sense washed him. He intended to leave her to her own device when he read the want of inclusion his kin sought to bring his witcher through the tethered bonds he has created with them. Taking her back to their home from the fight with the fiend had surfaced the memories when he cared for Regis during the early stages of his regeneration. As soon as his blood brother could speak, he spoke at lengths till the point of exhaustion, much to Dettlaff’s chagrin. Not the fact from Regis talking, but the fact his brother ignored his need for rest after becoming a damn smear on a column. But the fight earlier did bring up the time Regis drawn on the topics of potions that his witcher consumed. It became an opportunity to take. Regis had taught him to brew potions during his recovery and going to gather the materials should give the time for the others to seek out the witcher. He was even more gladdened when Dessi spoke her intention to take better care of herself. Even though she decided to take precautions in wanting to have her potions, Dettlaff felt a nagging feeling that this witcher would still find herself in trouble quite often after seeing the state of dress and equipment she had when she fought the beast.

Dettlaff also became wrought with worry when he felt Dessi’s distress while he was out. It is not as palpable as it is with his lesser kin but more like distant bells in his mind. On return, he found her in slumber and found himself at a moment of speechless surprise that Serphae was soothing the Dessi as she slept with fingers brushing through Dessi’s hair and Serphae humming old lullabies. The bruxa moved away from Dessi and inquired Dettlaff on what he gathered. Once he had informed her, she was very adamant on taking over in brewing the potion and leaving him to care for the witcher.

Dessi doesn’t know but she has broken off something from Dettlaff. To be more correct, she has broken him away from the rut he has been digging himself into. A miserable cycle of thoughts and actions that grew from the events of Beauclair and this witcher has unknowingly shifted it. Dettlaff knew his state of being affected the rest of the pack. As much as he hates to admit it, caring for them became a numbing task but he knew he could never leave them. It was a calling for him to watch over his lesser kin. Because of this witcher, Dessi, life here became abuzz again with curiosity and excitement of their new member. Every preconceived notion of what witchers are has been steadily chipped away with every passing Dessi makes through the tunnels. In return, he believes her notion of vampires has been altered as well.

From then, Dettlaff sat next to Dessi, watching her chest rise and fall with every breath. After a time, he had tentatively reached out and brushed his fingers through her hair and felt a swell of triumph when she sighed and even twitched a smile in her sleep. His mind drifted to distinguishing the smaller features of the witcher without interruption. A small huff exits his nose when he looked to her short messy choppy hair. He remembered when Rhen—Syanna mention that the term ‘pixie cut’ was used for hair like Dessi’s. He shooked off the unwanted feelings of the other woman before focusing on his other thought of how every time Dessi woke up, her hair always mussed in impressive shapes. He would even say it put Regis and himself in shame with how at times on section of hair would be smooshed while the rest springing at every direction. Light and dark honey hair with sun bleached streaks fell over soft angled dark brows. What always caught his attention were those expressive eyes of hers. Distantly he has seen witchers before and felt disgust at the murderers of his kin. Geralt was the first he was able to take a chance and truly look into them. They say witchers are emotionless, Dettlaff believed otherwise when he first sat down with the White Wolf. Dessi’s were slightly upturn at the corners and he found himself mesmerized at times as he watched her take in her surroundings. The expanding and contrast of those vertical slits, taking in every detail and how wide they become when she first opens them after nuzzling Talli and Tino. Very much like a pleased cat. The lines smooth out the corners when she sleeps adds a younger innocent look to her. Dettlaff’s eyes travel down to her nose, over the scar that diagonals over the bridge of it, moving to her lips. It was only brief before he had looked away, shooing certain thoughts out his mind. Though one thought remained and it was to capture the moment of her in peace. Getting up he moved to his desk to he plucked up a journal, long discarded by the former inhabitants of the mining village, and plopping himself down with the view he chose to be the best. Picking up a stick of charcoal, he begins his first lines on the parchment.

When he first heard indiscernible noises from the witcher, Dettlaff chalked it off to simple dreams until the first strangled gasp and a name slipped out her lips. He had placed down the journal when the scent of arousal shifted to fear. Then the first howl of words from her jumped him to fly over and try to wake her. He had grabbed her upper arms, saying her name over and over as she began to thrash. She woke with swinging her arms, sharp nails caught his arms, tearing the skin open and she unknowingly moved into him. He did his best to comfort her. Holding her and petting through her hair, he held her close and hushed out soothing words. Steadily she did settle, hugging him back as he rocked her. Her pups woke from the commotion but nestled back into the furs with lazy but curious eyes.

Her body settles into small shudders as he moves back a bit to cup her face in his hand. Weary, fearful, pained eyes looks back to him and he moves a thumb over her cheek, “I have you. Whatever you dreamt, it is not here.” Dessi leans into his hand for a second before her lips press thinly against each other and she pushes away.

He watches as she kept her eyes downcast away from him, “Sorry.” She mumbles.

Confusion fills his face and matched his voice, “Why do you apologize?” She only shrugs halfheartedly. His mouth twists at her before reaching to take her hand, his voice still soft but more firm, “Tell me why Dessi.”

She looks back to him and Dettlaff frowns at the shame clearly written across her face, “causing a commotion.” She waves a hand haphazardly before squinting to Dettlaff, “Did I hurt you?”

Dettlaff blinks aback to the question, glancing down to his arm, there is no wound now and the only indication was a slight smear of his blood. The first thought went to awe at the strength at her claw like nails before rushing words out to quell any blame, “You were defending yourself when not fully awake and a small scratch is nothing.”

Still she frowns before whipping her head to the sleepy duo with alarm and he pulls at her hand to gather her attention, “Dessi,” Dettlaff waits for her to turn yet she does not as she stares in distress. Frustration sighs out of him when he shifts to grab her, much to her irritated scowling, and leans against the wall behind her before tucking her into his side. From the angle, they have clear view of the pups. At that point he lowers head to speak lowly to her ear, “They are safe. You have not harmed them and I know you never will do so.” He felt her cross her arms and gave a tiny smile when she leans into him with a huff.

Dettlaff leans his head back against the wall as he rubs his hand over her arm calmingly and for the moment, things were in a lull. In the quiet point, Dettlaff’s mind flitters back to what Dessi said in her sleep, creating a trickle of worry through him. He wanted to drop the subject in his head, yet the question still came out.

“Who is Lucas?” the lull cracks at immediate tension felt by Dessi. He follows shortly, though with regret of poising the question in the first place, “You said his name in your sleep.”

The silence stretches before she gives a small reply, “was.” Dettlaff looks down to her. Though she is not facing him, he knows she feels his confusion. She continues, “Who was Lucas.” He feels her shoulders raise and fall in a deep controlled sigh before grabbing and removing his arm around her as she scoots a bit of distance between them.

Awash with a feeling of guilt, Dettlaff hushes out, “forgive me, I should not have pried.”

Dessi waves her hand dismissively and follows with quiet words, “It would have been brought up at one point or another with how long I’m staying here.” He catches the bitterness in her words yet hunches that it is not directed towards him, so Dettlaff waits in silence to allow the witcher to continue at her own pace.

As she thinks about what to say next, Dettlaff feels the shift of emotions rolling through the witcher. Being closer to Dessi strengthens the connection that has seemed to grow the more time they were together. Stinging pain and unsettled frustration pours off of her, yet when she speaks, it was with eerie calm.

“Someone I loved and who I thought loved me back,” a break with a slow exhale, “or maybe I tricked myself into thinking such. I’m not sure anymore.” The air lodges in Dettlaff’s throat as he pulls his hands into his lap. An unnerving sense curls in his gut. Dessi rolls her head back and faces him with an unreadable expression, “I killed him.”

Barely above a whisper, he asks, “What happened?” To say he was anxious would be an incredulous understatement. The fact that they both may have gone through similar jarring experiences with their respected ‘lovers’ invokes a myriad of thoughts and emotions in the vampire.

“I think it started during last break of couple years between us.” She shrugs nonchalantly, “or when he tosses me out. I’m not sure, really. On and off we would split but,” Dessi blinks a bit and her expression downcasts, “maybe he’s done it to see how long it takes for me to come back. Can’t really ask him those questions now, can I?” The last part was more of a whisper to herself and with a shake with her head, she returns to speaking off hand, like talking about the weather. “A bit over 7 years ago we both parted ways and several months afterwards I met Aiden, another witcher from my school. We ended up traveling the Path together.”

He felt a sad longing wave off of her and follows his urge to comfort her by grasping her hand; she grabs his hand back. Dessi’s eyes stare off in her own memories, “He was charming, witty, and kind.” She snorts, “Funny thing is, he was put through the altered mutagen that spun most of us into madness. It increases the depth of emotions intensively within us and what we can feel from others, yet he was incredibly level headed and in tune of his feelings. As much as I liked him, I was constantly pissed with how he handled things, always giving a damn about everyone and his self-sacrificing kindness bullshit. Not taking payment if it would hurt the person who put the contract out. I would try to start fights, whether verbal or physical and he just kept his patients with me.” Dessi pulls in her knees and tucks her head over them. Her voice changed to something wistful as a small smile appears, “Every day was a fucking lesson with him and I ended up traveling and wintering with him for a couple years. I think those times were my happiest. Nothing romantic or sexual really happened between us but I couldn’t get enough of being around him. We could read each other like an open book and I loved it. Lucas was either in the back of my mind or at times not even there.” Dettlaff startles at the sharp laugh that bursts from Dessi, “That ass changed me in the end and you know what I did? Soon as I caught wind of Lucas and that he was searching for me, I ran back like a damn dog returning to its master.”

Dettlaff watches her as Dessi shakes her head in disagreement with what she thought in her mind before she faces him again, fighting back the tears brimming her eyes. A noise scratched out of his throat at it and he pulls at her hand. Dessi keeps hold on it but does not let him pull her as she continues.

“Aiden was my friend and I left him and got him killed. I think he was my first actual real friend and Lucas killed him cause of me.” Dettlaff found her voice to be absolutely miserable and more than that, the ending of her words he felt a shift between them, her emotions that sings from her before, similar to vampires but so muted flips to becoming clear as the crystal lakes of Toussaint. Dessi stares as if she knows Dettlaff’s realization.

“How?” It was all that Dettlaff could rasp out at the moment as he works to comprehend the sudden open connection between them. The sense of anguish of her own actions and her losses; the bitter self hate from it and the feeling of being terribly lost in it all among other emotions. Many of which the vampire has felt in the passing months after Beauclair. The revelation hits him like a ton of bricks at the similarities and it sinks low in his gut. He may not need air to breath but the feeling of the struggling need knocks him of kilter in his own mind. In all this time he felt he would never be understood yet this lone witcher he came upon shifts the ground beneath him by just opening up to him. Just as soon as the metaphorical door opened between them, it drifted shut.

“The trials that us witchers go through give us mutations though in my case I was put through it twice. The trial of grasses is the one that changes our physiology. Gives us the reflexes, our eyes, among other things. Three out of ten of us kids survive it but I think the ratio of it is a bit on the positive side. Something was found special about me and my school heard of one of the wolves doing extra rounds to some and had one survive. They thought they could do the same and I’m still here.” Dessi explains. She finally scoots back over to Dettlaff, who drops his hand from hers to wrap around her shoulders. Overwhelmed, Dettlaff found that being able to hold Dessi gave a grounding sense when he still spins with his own perspective of everything changes shape. Though Dettlaff knows within the swirl of emotions, that anger bridles within. Horrified and angry those children have been pushed through these ‘trials’. Try as he may he could not stop grinding his teeth at it and that he felt that there is more to the makings of a witcher. Dettlaff couldn’t help but hold tightly to her now. He wants to know more but Dessi cuts him off “Guess I ended up with extra perks and Aiden really helped me in understanding it.”

Her head moves to lay against him and he takes his other arm to hug around her small body. The vampire brushes his nose in her hair, fighting his focus to stay present. He feels Dessi’s own arms move over his and her hands grip over them before she quietly asks, “do you want me to stop?”

Time stills for the point as the vampire’s eyes squeeze shut. It hurts him to know she has been through so much. A large part of him wants to hunt down all those who have wronged her, to tear them to shreds. Dettlaff wants to hide her away from the cruelty of this world and never let her experience any of this again, to keep holding her, telling her nothing will ever hurt her as long as he lives. He hates that he promised to let her leave in the spring and to never follow her. Would he be able to stop himself? Furthermore he hates the feeling that he may go to the ends of this world for this witcher. The feeling he once had for a woman that he once held so dear. The feeling that he promised himself to swear off for good and this witcher is unknowingly giving him reason to break it.

Something brushed his cheek and he opens his eyes to see Dessi staring back to him. Concern written across her face and she pulls back her hand from him but there was also awe in her eyes. It took him a few seconds to realize his human mask had slipped away, revealing the more bestial side of himself. Dettlaff shifts back with a frown, “I apologize, please continue Dessi.”

Dessi continues to stare for a moment longer moving back to lay her head back on Dettlaff, “back then, I didn’t know why but I felt scared to tell Lucas about Aiden. Thought he would get mad or something and I felt guilty that I really didn’t think of him when I was with Aiden. A bit happened around the time Lucas and I reunited, but I don’t want to talk about it.” She breaks off steadying her breathing before starting again, “Things went back to normal with Lucas and I. He would go out of his way to show how much he missed me. Just like every time we get back together. It was a while later, several months in fact, that I started getting letters from Aiden.” He feels her grin, “He checks in to see how I was doing and would let me know what he was up too. It was really sweet. One time I got a letter that he met another witcher and that he really really liked him. Said he was from the school of wolf. Lambert or something but I love how Aiden described him. Said the wolf had the exterior shell of being the prickliest son of a bitch you would ever meet with a temper of a rabid rock troll but a goofy soft center like one of those candies.” He hears her sniff a bit and he moves to rub a hand over her arm. “Eventually Lucas caught on, saying something changed about me and then he found the letters. Things got rough but then again, though we get rough with each other quite a bit, but the aftermath always made up for it. But then again, Lucas said I changed and I think I did. I told him we should step away from each other just for awhile. In the end he agreed and actually supported that decision. I was really surprised and all but of course it is too good to be true as usual. I went to finding Aiden but got slowed by a traveling family.” She scoffs, “He really rubbed off on me cause they were trying to get two towns over but the roads pretty much hellish from either bandits or necrophages. Wife’s family lost everything in a fire and the husband’s family wanted to take them in but they lived a ways apart. Wasn’t much coin but ended up agreeing that I’m good to just being fed on the trip.”

“Never knew that Lucas found Aiden. Screwed up his contract without Aiden knowing about it and when another one of us cats came to confront Aiden about taking the payment without finishing the job, Lucas Axii’ed a damn archer to off him.” Though the connection was not as strong now, Dettlaff feels her anger flare as she sneers, “I didn’t know. I found out that he was killed but not what really happened. I went and found Lucas and of course I was upset and he had the fucking galls to fucking hold me, like he had no part of it, and say sorry it happened but I will always be the one there for you.” She shakes her head, her voice rising, “I fucking believed it.”

“Dessi,” He pauses her to curl a finger under her chin to have her look at him. Dettlaff watches her eyes glow with fury of the memories. “You found out, didn’t you?”

The witcher bares her teeth in a sneer, “He slipped up on his words one day and said I just didn’t hear him right, as always. But, I realized he tends to say more than he means to when we argue so I provoked him and he admitted it. He admitted to a lot of things actually.” Her anger dies down in her body and Dessi’s shoulder’s slump, “I found out a lot of things were lies. There was never love there. Spent years thinking there was and realizing I’m just a damn fool. Can catch a lie from strangers a mile away but from someone I know? Suddenly I’m blind.”

She pulls away from his hand but lays her head against his chest with a heavy sigh. Dessi’s arms circle around his waist as she mumbles, “So yeah, I killed him. Didn’t even realize that I did till it was over. Even with all of that, and with how much I hate him for everything I still find myself missing him and the bastard still finds himself in my dreams. I just want him gone.” Her arms squeeze in a hug for a second before loosening, “Sorry for just throwing all on you Dettlaff.”

He didn’t even think about it when he leans over and places a soft kiss atop her head, shifting to hold her as close as possible, “Have you ever told anyone this?” He hears Dessi snort.

“Aiden was the first person I opened up to. Had no one after he was gone.” He feels her shake her head as if in amusement, “Don’t know if you caught on, but I’m shit when it comes with dealing with emotions and stuff. Tried to bury myself in contract after contract, taking more and more risks. It just left me more tired of it all, tired of people and life itself.”

She moves to sit back up to look at Dettlaff, the surprised awe look back in her eyes as she stared at him, “Kind of wandered away into the wilds waiting for some beast to take me out and instead you found me.”

Emotions well up and choke in Dettlaff and became even more convinced in sending a crow all those days ago to find his blood brother for advice was the right thing to do. Dettlaff had an inkling that the first place to first to try find his brother would be where Geralt resided, knowing his brother harbored deep feelings for the white wolf, Dettlaff had hoped that Regis would return to his witcher after being unable to find the hiding vampire.

It was the first time since Beauclair, that he contacted Regis. At first when he had summoned the black feathered bird, he was at a loss to figuring out exactly what to convey. Dettlaff wasn’t ready to truly face his brother yet but sorely needed help in understanding this overwrought pained witcher. In the end, he believed he passed on what appropriately summed up the situation and admitted, though with much chagrin, that he himself did not fare well for a bit but has improved as of recently with his new focus.

Coincidently enough, a raven returned as Dettlaff was out searching for celandine, and the vampire was pleased greatly to hear that Regis was in fact residing with Geralt. For the matter on hand, Dettlaff was found surprised that instead of having Regis’s wise words, it was Geralt’s that became passed on to him. The vampire found himself dumbfounded that the witcher once again, reached out a helping hand. Dettlaff took Geralt’s words to heart, to simply be there for Dessi and let her come around on her own terms. Do not expect much of anything in return but know that witchers do not take kindness that has been given to them, lightly.

Dettlaff’s resolve to care for the witcher only strengthened from the advice. He wishes to see her walk on her own with lighter shoulders. The way that Dessi is now looking at him makes him believe that his goal will be achievable.

The vampire finds himself smiling, truly, without reserve at the witcher, as he reveres her, “I may have found you but you are the one who decided to stay.” Dettlaff thinks on the last parts of what Dessi said and an idea sprung to see if he can lighten her mood, “and you may not have caught on but I, myself, am,” he pauses to feign a wince on the following word, “shit with dealing with emotions and such,”

Laughter rings out the witcher and Dettlaff feels himself puff up in pride at his accomplishment. As her laughter dies down, Dessi manages out, “You are terribly witty and funny, has anyone told you that?”

Dettlaff feels his cheeks warm at the compliment and he briefly looks away; a flash of another idea springs to mind and he meets her eyes again with an impish grin, “Only once they prevent themselves from becoming a shish kebab long enough.”

Dessi falls into a cackling fit, a hand moves to her stomach while her other moves to wipe the corner of her eyes. Dettlaff finds her loud and boisterous laughter infectious as he joins in with his own, one that stems from deep from the belly. It does not pass his attention that he has not laugh as such, in a long time, yet Dessi draws it out with unknowing ease, alongside with humorous thoughts.

A pull of his hand draws his attention once more and his laughter subsides. Dessi cups her second hand around the one she is already holding. Her cheeks redden and her gold eyes shimmer with a wide sweet look. The word ‘beautiful’ runs through the vampire’s mind before she speaks.

“You’re amazing Dettlaff.” Dessi squeezes his hand with hers, “I think I really just needed to talk and you listened. I hope you think you’re able to do the same with me.”

“I,” Dettlaff brings his other hand to hold over to hers, “believe I may take that chance with you, but later.” Something about that night he first met her, when she showed the fierce protection over the pups and her mare, gave the sense of being bound. Briefly, dread pricks his mind but he internally shakes it off. He will not have himself believing that it is a trick. A sharp squeak draws them both out of the moment and their heads turn to see Talli tackling Tino, teething at his ears.

Dessi gives a light snicker as she crawls over to them, “Talli you troublemaker.” The witcher scoops them up in a wrap before standing, looking over to Dettlaff, “Comin’ with? Think they could a bottle.”

Dettlaff nods wordlessly, rising up and extends an arm to allow her to take the lead. Following behind, he muses silently, despite how life has been cold and harsh to Dessi; her heart holds a blossom of warmth. A winter’s bloom he concludes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, sorry for the wait. Had a hard time balancing work and writing. That and I had a hard time getting the chapter to feel right for me. Didn't want her to seem like a 'poor victim boo hoo' and take away the fact that she can be brutishly strong, but ya know when you bury stuff for awhile some peeps, like myself, word vomit about past traumas cause I believe people with traumas can still be some real badasses. There will be stuff later in this fic where you will see her show what it means to be a witcher of the school of cat(though i might save that for the next installment cause i'm thinking of making it into a series with how i drew up the multiple plots, but i shall not say more on that and ruin the surprise) But hey! speaking of surprise, I made mentions of other witchers!! Also, I commissioned an artist to draw out Dessi of what she would of looked before the whole mess and you can find it on tumbr with either looking up my main blog 'thedevilishlyangelic' or my witcher side blog 'witcher-not-quitter'. Loved what they did!!


	12. Forelsket

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Forelsket: (Norwegian): The indescribable euphoria experienced as you begin to fall in love.  
> Sometimes not everyone is capable to recognize they are falling in love, but no one can miss that absolute buzzing thrill when you are around certain people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Triggers/warnings:  
> Dessi swearing? of course.  
> otherwise not really anything to warn about.
> 
> No beta readers at the moment.

“Do you know how to skip rocks?” Anya peers her robin egg blue eyes, curiously to the witcher as she had her head lying in Dessi’s lap as they sat outside in the middle of the day. The following days after speaking to Dettlaff about her recent past had lightened her own mood and a sense of breathing easier and since then, Dettlaff was a more a constant presence as he either follows her around as they talk or eagerly guides her to meet the whole pack. Dessi finds the black haired vampire to being extremely easy to talk to and not at all draining as they bounce their conversations to varying subjects. She concluded it to his genuine engagement in their talks as he prodded her with questions about the witcher’s interests and passions. She felt as if she was reconnecting to parts of herself that were locked away after all her toil. Life felt less bleak for Dessi as she was reaching back into the things that did bring her joy. It may have also helped that she found him incredibly charming as she prodded back to his own passions, watching how his normally reserved mannerisms turn opposite as spoke with his hands. The way his eyes lit up and Dettlaff’s open true smile constantly filled the witcher with growing affection.

Dessi’s brows crease for a moment before answering, “No, I don’t think I ever done that.” She has seen kids do it before, while she walked her path but never took a moment to do so herself. She never really gave thought of doing something so small. Why would she anyways but the question from the girl spurs an odd missing emotion.

Anya pouts her face a bit at the witcher’s answer before excitedly beaming, “Can I teach you? Jek can help too, cause he knows how to skip rocks.” Dessi looks to Jek, who sat, crossed legged with hood over his head to keep the sun off him. As Anya talks, he gives a shy smile and his deep oak brown eyes held a little spark of hopeful anticipation. The girl continues, “Serphae taught us. She said one time when she traveled to some beach and at night in certain times of the year, there are these living tiny things that glow when you touch the water. She says it’s pretty to skip rocks on night like those.” Anya jolts to sitting up straight with wide enthusiastic eyes, “maybe we can travel one day and go there! We could skip rocks together at that beach. Can we do that Dessi? You, Jek and me?”

Anya’s own excitement sprouts a quick wave of giddiness in Dessi and a hopeful thought. The witcher chuckles out, “Ya know, why not? But I think we should wait till you get a little older before we get to traveling to that beach.” Her face scrunches up as thoughts drift to her light coin purse back in the cave, “also would need to take on contracts in the spring so we will have the coin to go travel.” Dessi shrugs, “There’s always drowners and what not to take care of.”

Dessi does not hear his steps in his approach, but the hairs on her neck rise up, yet it was more in pleasant thrum of excitement than anything else for the dark haired vampire. Her smile widens and fluttering warmth grows within her as the witcher hears the familiar deep nazair voice rumble with amusement, “Travelling to a beach? I must be missing quite a plan then.” The witcher leans back and twists to see Dettlaff closing in and fought the start of a buzzing vibration in her upper chest when he sat down beside her with his eyes crinkling with mirth, as if he hears Dessi’s struggle to compose herself, “what exactly are you three up to?”

“We are going to travel one day to the pretty beach Serphae mention, so we can skip rocks, but Dessi says we have to wait till I get older and that she has to take contracts before coming back for us to go.” The girl jumps her answer in before adding, “Right Dessi?”

All eyes move to Dessi and she ends up looking back to Dettlaff who stares with an unexpected wide look twinkle in his blues. He speaks with unexpected soft shy hopefulness that stirs a growing butterfly sensation in her gut, “Truly?”

“yeah,” For a second Dessi left it at that when gazing back at the black haired vampire before blinking back into the moment, “Well, um, we are just talking about it, that’s all,” the witcher looks assuringly to Anya, “but something in the realm of possibilities, though I would need to know how to skip rocks first and I’m in luck with two wonderful mentors right here.” Dessi looks back to Dettlaff as she carefully chooses her words and adds in, “If making my way back here once in a while doesn’t raise any opposition?”

Dessi swore that she saw a glint of relief pass through Dettlaff’s eyes as he replies while taking one of her hands into his larger ones, “You are always welcomed to return Dessi.” There was something with the way he said those words that it stole her breath with it feeling as if he meant to say, ‘please come back.’ She mentally shook the thought.

“Yup, you sure are!” the young alp jumps in with her agreement, carrying all the positivity she could muster, tackling forward and hugging Dessi around her neck. Dessi laughs out as she follows the momentum with the tackle, rolling to her back and wraps an arm around the small girl. The witcher feels a little hand run through her hair as Anya spoke again, “Dettlaff, like what I did with Dessi’s hair?”

The focus pans to the small charm that Dessi was gifted by the katakan days before, as it was now weaved into a small braid in her hair that hung near the side of her head. It was a simple and smooth smoky green stone, with a hole drilled through yet what threw Dessi for a loop was when she recognizes the stone to be a type of jade. One of these days, she will ask the katakan in how the hell he got a rare stone like that, but not today. The witcher turns her focus back to Dettlaff as his own eyes trace the new adornment and to where she has the odd feeling that his study shifted to her face before settling to her eyes.

“Beautiful,” He breathes the word out and she felt Dettlaff’s large hand squeeze its hold slightly over her own. Dessi ignores the odd heat rising in her cheeks and shifts focus to the young alp on top of her.

“Well Anya,” Dessi starts off, hastily clearing her throat, “you have successfully captured a witcher. What do you plan to do with her?”

The girl pondered with tapping a finger on her chin before lifting herself up to look at Jek. There was a beat of silence before Jek a small smile grew on his face and Anya giggles as if they had come to an agreement over something. Dessi moves to sit up with Anya when the girl surges forward and pecks a kiss on Dessi’s cheek

“Tag, You’re it!” Anya springs backwards and takes off along with Jek who had already sprung up. Dessi stares off the direction the two ran while touching her cheek before flashing her teeth in a grin. A rumbling chuckle brought her attention to her side as she watches Dettlaff shakes his head in amusement.

“They can be full of surprises.”

“They sure can,” Dessi pauses a second before squinting her eyes with mischief. She lunges towards the dark haired vampire, only to fall over on a vacant spot. She lets out frustrated growl before hearing Dettlaff again, not too far off.

“Now, I thought witchers were faster than that,” Dettlaff teases and even mockingly checked his nails, as if bored.

“That was cheating and you’re going to regret saying that,” Dessi snips back with a put-on sneer as she moves up, dusting off her pants.

Dettlaff gives a wicked grin back to the witcher, “That remains to be seen.” The vampire disappears into mist, only leaving enough of a visual trailing to the forest.

“Ass,” The cat couldn’t help laughing out before ducking her head down when her thoughts goes to the odd squeeze in her chest from seeing him so playful. So carefree. Those wide grins Dettlaff gives show the small dimples that just give such a lively charm to his handsome features. She might even think it is a bit addicting to find ways to bring that out from him. The feeling was getting to the point of an eerie overwhelming realization of sorts and with a shake of her head, Dessi throws all thoughts out and sets out into the woods with a paced run.

Despite the cooler weather, there was quite a bit of green undergrowth through the woods. The witcher moves with near silence. Any humans or elves would not hear her steps as she pads through, keeping low and her head on a swivel. Of course though, Dessi is not tracking humans or elves, instead three vampires with senses much, much more sensitive. They also know the witcher hunts them in their game. The disadvantage gave a thrilling buzz through the stalking witcher.

With the game afoot, Dessi keys into her mutations, willing her senses to sharpen. Her pupils widen in focus as she searches for movements as slight as a leaf twitching, only for split moments where they turn into slits from the odd beams of light that penetrate the through the canopy of the trees meet the witcher’s eyes. Dessi filters through the sounds of nature, hoping for a possible telltale shift of moving bodies would give alert to her. No such luck for the moment.

Stepping over a fallen trunk, her eyes catch a clue. Among, the odd open patches of dirt on the ground laid bare to a small light footprint. Dessi almost went to kneel to the clue when a sound of something brushing against bark had the witcher’s head snap to the direction. Her skin pricked up with the feeling of being watched as she slowly scans through the trees, the witcher’s breathing slowed to near stopping. A squirrel, at the far right of her field of vision, darts up a tree with another appearing and trailing after it. Dessi’s eyes pan back down the trees and moves to pick through the far brushes, when that prickling feeling proves itself true as gold cat eyes spot a pair of oak brown eyes, peaking through a set of branches. Even from the distance, she picks up the widening of the nekurat’s pupils at the realization that he has been spotted. It couldn’t have been more that the span of two heart beats for the witcher that the two stare each other down when in near simultaneous, the two break into flashing speeds. 

As the witcher gives chase, Jek switches into different directions with little notice. Both duck and leap over varying branches, rocks, and other objects as Dessi surprisingly, starts closing distance. What soon looks like the final stretch to catching to Jek, he shifts direction as he slings himself around a tree and almost shoots off in a one eighty and passes Dessi. Not wanting to lose any distance, the witcher immediately bounds off the same tree and spins off in the same path.

Again the young nekurat zigs through the trees, almost like a deer, though this time Dessi reads his movements better and goes to predicting his turns. Turning At identical times, Dessi sprints to intercept Jek, who goes to repeating his earlier move of slinging around one of the trees. Moving to tackle head on, Dessi circles, only to run into..Nothing? She grips the trunk as she freezes in bafflement. The boy was simply gone and the witcher looks with stun wide eyes.

Schooling her senses, Dessi shakes off her shock and quickly narrows her eyes before snapping her head upwards up the tree. Also nothing. Back to square confusement, she moves away from the tree with light steps.

“Over here,” a distant voice cries out, and the witcher spots over in a different direction, Jek, who waves cockily. Probably the first time she has seen him look so overconfident. Yet to somewhat her satisfaction, Jek seems to be breathing heavily. A great thing considering that Dessi, herself, directs her own breathing to slow from the chase.

Dessi steps forward towards Jek and he takes off again, but after the first few trees he passes, Jek simply does not reappear after one of them. She knew at that point, Jek will remain out of reach, but there are still two others.

As if her thoughts were read, Dessi feels the voice more than hears the rumble by her ear, sending what she will deny later, pleasant chills, “so close.”

Shooting her hands behind her, the witcher only spins to see black and red mist vanish in the air. The witcher’s face pulls into a half meaning sneer at the tease and rolls her eyes, unsure if her friend is still around to see.

A giggle, ringing like soft bells, plucks the witcher’s mind as she looks for the source. A sing song voice dances the air, “Dessi,” The witcher moves to where she believes the source is directed before Anya sings out again, “Dessiiii,” the girl drags out the witcher’s name.

The source seems to come from a large shrub. Standing straight, Dessi gives a half hearted shrug, almost as if giving up. “You vampires are so quick,” she moves slowly closer but keeps looking about as if unsure, “however will this witcher catch anyone?” Dessi gives a mocking sad sigh to her plighted words. Before stepping close enough and lurches behind the bushes. Air again and this time Dessi gives a frustrated growl.

“Here I am!” Anya declares from behind the witcher. Dessi spins to see the teasing alp is only several feet away. Like the standoff with Jek, Both seem keen to see who moves first.

Slowely, Anya spreads her stance with her arms flaring out with small clawed fingers extended. A typical stance the witcher has seen other bruxa and alps do when they ready to strike. The girl even pulls her lips back and bares her fangs. It gave a momentarily odd feeling to see her Anya do so in her little dress and half braided hair. As quick as the feeling grew, the witcher mentally hurls it out. Vampires displaying their born traits is not something to think odd of or fear. Especially when it comes to her friends.

Dessi sinks into a similar stance with her own sharp teeth bared in return. She listens to her friend’s heart pitter patter rise in speed and let out a low playful growl. The reaction was not what Dessi had expected yet should of at the same time in concerns to Anya’s past experience with a witcher. The scent of fear waves of the young alp as the witcher watches Anya’s pupils shrink and her features pale. Witnessing the reaction gave way to a sick cold and hot knot in the witcher.

Kneeling down at a snail’s pace, Dessi keeps her palms flat and forward towards Anya, “its ok.” The witcher’s voice left as a whisper, “its ok.” She watches the girl’s lower lip tremble but holds herself from reaching over, “scared you into thinking of that other witcher.”

Anya’s voice cracks even though she tries to make herself seem fine, “You’re not him though.” The girl squeezes her eyes shut and takes a few slow deep breaths. The action surprises the witcher at how Anya easily moves into a simple calm breathing technique that Dessi has seen many grown men fail at. It was when she hears the young girl’s heartbeat slow that Anya opens her eyes, “can we still play?” her words soft and nervous.

“Of course, if you still want to,” Dessi speaks gently, and with a small reassuring smile, “it’s just tag and all I need to do is poke you,” To show her statement, Dessi lifts a hand and waggles her index finger and pokes her own cheek, smooshing it around as her smile turns into a silly grin, “Just like that.”

As if a miracle cure, Anya giggles before popping her hands on her hips, “can’t catch me when you’re a slow poke.” Adding the tease with blowing raspberries with her tongue.

“I’ll show you a slow poke,” with that, Dessi moves up and Anya spins off in the other direction. This time both let out varying forms of laughter.

Like Jek, Anya proved quite challenging to grab. Throughout the chase, no matter how quick Dessi snatchers at Anya, the girl seems to just slip out of touch. Said young girl decides to ramp up the fun with suddenly scaling up a tree. The actions spurs admiration from the witcher, watching the agility of her friend and without hesitation, Dessi leaps up and grabs to one of the branches and hoists herself up. Anya, who had already leapt to another tree, looks back and grins.

“Can you even keep up?” the girl teases.

“Watch it girly,” Dessi leaps onto the same tree as Anya, only for the girl to practically fly to the next one, “or I’ll tickle you when I catch you.”

Anya looks back and blows another set of raspberries and Dessi cracks up. Even with all the movement within the game, the witcher felt little weariness from it but instead feels more energized. As both leap from tree to tree, with Anya just staying out of reach and climbing just a little higher each time, Dessi relishes the thrill and absolute joy from not only from the kids, but from within herself. It just felt..Right.

It was when the witcher was within her thoughts when a branch Dessi lands on, gives a crack. Dessi grapples around another branch to steady herself for a moment, making sure that she was not to fall.

Anya pauses at the sound of the crack and looks back to Dessi, “Careful Des,” the girl cautions, “Don’t fall.”

Dessi snorts, “don’t you know that cats always land on their feet?” The witcher moves to a higher branch and makes to leap to the other tree, but, as if fate decided to get back on schedule with screwing with the witcher, the branch snaps as she pushes off of it.

“Wha—,” Dessi yelps at the sudden fall and twists her body so she would land, hopefully, gracefully. Yet that was impaired when a sudden build of black, red smoke materializes into a large firm body, catching her. The air whooshes out of the witcher at the impact. Dessi’s arms land around firm broad shoulders and the owner of them has his arms circle around the witcher’s middle, effectively catching the witcher and trapping her to him and leaving a bit of space between Dessi’s feet and the ground.

Dumfounded, Dessi stares at Dettlaff. Their faces brought close together from her sudden position and it honestly stuns her. Dettlaff wore a small crooked smile with the tip of a fang pointing through as his eyes, bright blue and sparkling jewel like from the light coming down through the trees. The colors remind her of the crystal lakes during mid day in Toussaint. Dessi always had taken her time to admire those lakes when she passed through. His scent tickles her nose with its mix of sandalwood, leather, something fresh and earthy, and ultimately just him. She felt warm from it all and her throat suddenly felt dry. Dessi’s expression must have worried Dettlaff when his brows knit, “Is something wrong?” The vampire leans down slowly to ground the witcher, who for the moment could not find words to reply.

There was nothing wrong per say, but Dessi wants to rid the odd high emotions that are spinning like a boat on a stormy ocean. Yet the thought of outright saying she could have landed fine by herself does not sit well. Opening her mouth only to feel lamely about her words, “I’m fine, I uh,” the pssst from above brought both her and Dettlaff’s attention upwards to Anya. The girl gives a pointed look to Dessi while smooshing a finger to her cheeks. The hint sounds off in Dessi’s mind as she grins cheekily and looks to Dettlaff as her previous mental struggles are shoved away for the moment, “I’m ok and,” she makes a show of bringing her hand into his sight with her index finger extended and promptly pokes Dettlaff’s stubbled cheek, “your it.”

Like with any unexpected action she has done with Dettlaff, it takes a few moments of after his already knitted brows furrowed deeper. This time around, Dessi brushes past the thoughts of how amusingly cute he looks and watches how it finally catches up to him. Though his reaction was far from expected and her own reaction, a struggle to keep in check.

Dettlaff gives a rather sharp smile, with all his sharp teeth exposed. His expression twists into a mock accusatory look. He looks downright predatory in Dessi’s mind. Especially as his long black, silver streaked curls gave a wild halo around his head. Dettlaff leans forward and his voice, a low teasing growl, “You wouldn’t have fallen on purpose and tricked me into catching you?” He moves his head to Dessi’s side. Dettlaff’s voice turns into what she could describe as a dangerous purr, “Right Dessi?”

This was one hell of a time for the witcher to get so bothered by Dettlaff. With his voice rumbling right by her ear, it felt as if chilling jolts prick down her neck and down her spine as deep seated heat spreads in what she deems to be, quite uncomfortable places for the current situation. Dessi really put effort into not thinking of his hands that still laid about her middle and where else they could be if she had say.

She pulls her face into a neutral look with a raised brow and works her mutations, feeling the pull of slowing her heart.

“Now Dettlaff,” She starts of coolly and internally impressed by her composure. She pulls back to have the vampire face her directly, turning her expression into an innocent look, “how could I have known you were there to catch me?” She ends her words by biting her lower lip coyly and looking up to Dettlaff through her lashes.

Whatever game Dettlaff was playing at seems to evaporate away as he looks to Dessi. The vampire’s eyes drop down to the witcher’s lips and distant warning bells rang in the back of Dessi’s head that she may have made a mistake yet at the same time she feels a buzzing sensation. Like the rush she feels from taking a leap off from a ledge up high. For a moment Dessi swore she saw Dettlaff lean closer to her. His eyes on her lips when the sound of numerous birds cawing suddenly above, brought both their attentions away and more to their surroundings. Including Anya, who had chosen that time to drop to the ground, with a rather suspiciously gleeful grin on her face. Dessi felt as if freezing water was splashed over her with the jarring thought that the girl had witnessed the entirety of the situation. But nothing happened so there was really nothing to see. Well, that was Dessi’s thoughts.

Dettlaff steps back with his eyes on the sky, seemingly dropping whatever the moment had been just before. The dark haired vampire gave a rather low hum before looking back to Dessi and Anya. Well more so to Anya.

“Serphae brings news that a meal has been made for us and Talli and Tino have become restless. Our game has been brought to a close,” Dettlaff gives an apologetic look to Anya.

The girl looks briefly up to the flight of several birds. All who seem to be flying to the direction of the village. Anya beams, “that’s ok,” the young alp gives a pointed look, “At least Dessi was able to catch one of us.” She winks before darting off. Somewhere off to the side, another figure starts to run off; the only possible candidate being Jek. Leaving both Dessi and Dettlaff to themselves again.

Looking off to the direction where Anya ran off to, Dessi simply announces out, “Whelp, time to get going.” Not wanting to stick around for reasons, the witcher starts to trek off.

“Wait,” it was with quick steps and a hand closing around her forearm that Dessi spun to face Dettlaff. His dark brows were furrowed again as he looks at her contemplatively. Seemingly finding his words he spoke with a soft tone, “I want to thank you.”

“Thank me for what exactly?” Dessi runs through her mind trying to surface anything but came up with nothing when Dettlaff continued.

“For what you did with Anya,” He pauses looking down for a moment before back to Dessi with gratefulness shining in his eyes, “I saw what happened. With Anya becoming afraid of you” Dettlaff sharply breathed in his nose in, shaking his head as if in a disagreement, “No, being afraid of what she had faced in her past and you helped her.”

Dessi stood blinking for a moment and she feels embarrassed warmth flush her cheeks as it dawned to what he spoke off. It was nothing to be praised on in Dessi’s mind or just not something she really has been praised on before. It felt odd to her, “Dettlaff it’s nothing. She got scared and I stopped, it was nothing more.” She hopes Dettlaff will drop it there.

It was apparently not the response he wanted as he moves to grabbing both her hands, speaking more firmly, “It was not ‘nothing’ Dessi,” His eyes seem to bore into her own, trying to push his words to Dessi’s mind, and she does feel for a moment, a presence brush insistently against her mind. It felt like a warm blanket trying to find its purchase over her, “I felt Anya’s fear and flew to see what was happening. I saw how you cared for her and how kind your heart is. I see more and more on what Regis spoke of when he told me of his time with his witcher.” Dettlaff moves a hand up and brushes his claws gently over Dessi’s cheek. The sensation not all unwelcomed as her eyes flutter at the touch, “You are more than what you believe yourself to be.” His hand cups her cheek fully, the warmth of them seeping into her skin.

It was as if hot coals were dumped inside Dessi’s chest at the words of Dettlaff. She couldn’t fathom why it hurt to hear those words or to see the vampire stare so deeply at her with those intensive jewel eyes of his. Or why her eyes stung so much. For whatever reason Dettlaff saw in her expression, he slowly moves to pull Dessi into a hug. She felt her head lay over his chest and his jaw lay above her head. Gentle claws scrape lightly through her hair and his other arm kept her flush to his body. It must have been the straw that broke the mule’s back when her tears flew without her permission. She thought to how she hates how she has cried so much in her stay here. It must have been more than she had in decades and yet in a span of a few weeks, she has been stripped of everything that has kept her tears at bay. A part of her tried to think angrily on how she wished Dettlaff had simply left her in the woods and only took the pups but she knew it was wrong. She didn’t want that.

Dessi’s arms circle around Dettlaff’s waist as she clings tightly to him. Dettlaff became the only anchor she could find in her storm as the first quiet whimpers left her lips. The witcher can feel through the vampire’s chest that he hushes out soothing words but her mind has shut off from most of them. She clings to the rumbles of his voice and the slow strong beat of his heart. She feels herself move with every rise of his chest as he breathes and wishes she could stay in this safety she finds with the vampire. Dessi doesn’t catch Dettlaff speaking to a crow in a near tree. She doesn’t hear him speak to pass a message that they would be a while before they returned their home. The witcher doesn’t catch on how Dettlaff referred it to ‘their home’, or understood his words when Dettlaff moves his lips beside her hear and whispers in what she felt as a promise.

“Ik zal je hart bewaken. Mijn zoete bloei.” 

Dessi felt that presence at the edge of her mind once more and finally let it wrap her like a warm quilt and all the swells of several emotions that gave a sense of what she might dare say, falling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry fore the impromptu Hiatus. Personal life really decided to drag me and ended up sucking out any motivation. It didn't help that as more time passed, I kept getting all those anxious thoughts of to not bother writing this anymore as I would not somehow write it 'right?' if you know that weird awful feeling. Anyways the past week or so, my new friends on tumblr really spurred on my writing juices and I started pumping out little head canons and short thingys. Also reading said new friends writings has also given me a bit of a boost. It led to actually having me sit down and write. I can't promise a steady flow of chapters but I am determine to finish this story, no matter how long it gets. 
> 
> Let me know how this chapter is and if it feels still true to the story. next will be leading back to Regis and Geralt. Also will lead to Dettlaff finding the courage to speak about his own past and hope that Dessi will not think of him as the monster he still thinks he is. Also think there is a character(s) here that is being a bit sly with knowing something is going on and cant help themselves to get involved.


	13. Art Chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a Art Chapter
> 
> I commissioned a bust drawing for Dessi by https://lovonne.tumblr.com/ who is a fantastic artist. I like to think of this piece of what Dessi looks like before things have really gone downhill. Before Loosing Aiden, before things were considered getting bad. Or you can take it as how she looks now.
> 
> And, well the two Ekimmara pups are of course Talli and Tino. Tino in the front with the blanket and Talli behind, going after that butterfly.. That is a sketch that I did and as you can see, i'm not much of a good artist but thought it was cute enough to share.
> 
> Adding on to this chapter is a mood board of Dessi and Dettlaff that https://temerianwitch.tumblr.com/ has done for me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These two pieces are up on my tumblr, Witcher-not-Quitter, with Dessi being my Icon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The actual next chapter is in the works and I will do my best to get it out when I can. Though it is still in the early process.
> 
> Depending how things go, I may add more art to this chapter, or to another chapter down the road. (cough cough, i may have paid for another commission)


	14. Swirling Thoughts and Thumping Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following the events of the Tag game and Dettlaff seems to find the courage to reveal his past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter was beta read by the magnificent Oversharing_Skeptic and I can't thank her enough♥♥♥  
> Trigger/warnings:N/A

Dettlaff had felt Dessi’s weariness wave off her form when they returned to their home later. In the beginning of them knowing each other, the vampire would have been drastically worried about Dessi’s muteness after their moment together. Yet he had come to know that the witcher was simply exhausted from the intense emotions she had unexpectedly road through. He knew that Dessi’s lively spunk, her bounce in her step would return in a short time. As well as her easy smiles and infectious laughter that always caused a flutter in his heart. Dettlaff might even swear that her laughter tasted of fresh spring air filling his lungs. Even with that knowledge, it did not quell the anxious pangs in his chest as Dettlaff watched his witcher. The vampire may not need air to breath but those pangs spurred an unwelcome weight to his chest that he could possibly describe as a chort sitting on him. 

It was in times like these, Dettlaff wished to simply gather Dessi back into his arms, to hold her for the rest of the evening and through the night. To continue whispering sweet words of how wonderful she is and how much good there is in her. Yet there is much that still needs to be said and most of it, on his part. Unfortunately he could not find the courage to start when the mere thought sent cold sick twists through his body. Dettlaff recognized the feeling as fear. Fear of what she may think of him afterwards, but she had come forward with vulnerable parts of her own life. It was only fair he did the same. 

Their meal had passed smoothly as it could have. Dessi, once returned into the familiar caves, had used the guise of being worn out from the game as she quietly ate through their dinner. It did not stop the witcher from the small smiles and short nuzzles with the other members of the pack. Nor did her more reserved behavior inhibit such sweet caring coos that the witcher whispered to Talli and Tino. Her love for the pups radiated from her. Even the other vampires could feel it. Dettlaff knew they accepted her. Their bond had first been filled with unease and apprehension among the lower vampires. The sensation felt as if a wave of prickling bugs crawled all over through the back of his mind during those early days. A stark difference to the humming warmth, curiosity, and excitement the lower vampires now feel when they interact with her. 

If Dettlaff paid attention, he could feel the light feather bond between himself and Dessi. A light twinkling, like a star he wished to just reach out too. He cannot quite tell what she feels unless the intensity of her own emotions overwhelm her. Dessi remains a constant glow in the recess of his mind and a familiarity to his recent days that the vampire often reaches out too in comfort. A bond that he only knew to be reserved among his kin yet, as always, Dessi throws him off kilter with new experiences. None of which he could consider unwelcomed. Not when it was her doing. 

Perhaps it is from the mutagens she had undergone in her trials? Dessi had explained that it involved parts of monsters being infused with witcher trainee’s to strengthen and create their abilities. How much of his own kin were involved in the making of her trials? She, herself, did not fully know what her mentors put her through. Dessi had later gone into more details of her grueling experiences within the past couple of days, during their talks, and the vampire knew she went light in certain descriptions. Dettlaff wondered if she was able to feel the horror that icily twisted deep within him at times when she would simply laugh off the particular subject and switch all together to something else. Despite the horrid feeling, the vampire was always awashed with awe at how she had endured it all and still had such a beautiful heart within her yet baffled how she always denies it. During those conversations, the vampire's mind flashes back to Geralt, in those few times he had interacted with the White Wolf.

Dessi's eyes may have kept avoiding Dettlaff’s for the time being but she kept herself close to him as they finished up their meal and walked back to their room to retire. Close enough to reach if he choose to. And he wanted to. More so in being able to cup her face, tracing his thumb over that faint scar on her chin and move it up to those plump lips of hers. The same lips that curved up slightly at times when Dessi found a mischievous thought on her mind. Or when she worried her lower lip with sharp teeth and what he would not voice aloud lest he be presented with a rather cute pout and two little adorable fangs. They would always draw his attention to her lips again. Dettlaff remembered tending the wounds on Dessi’s hand after she had dealt with the fiend. Her blood, sweet and buzzing on his tongue, set a fire coursing through his body as he watched her. Teeth worried those lips back then too. A beautiful rosy flush from beneath her freckles and scars. Dettlaff remembered how he thought, what if he just leaned in, and took the redning flesh between his own fangs. To pull and suck on them, darting his tongue in between those lips and sating his current curiosity if Dessi tasted as sweetly intoxicating as her blood. 

Dettlaff’s thoughts drifted to how earlier today he caught Dessi in her fall and how right it felt to have her in his arms. The air was filled with her stirring tangy sweet scent as her body curved against his own. Her wild mane of deep golds and light browns brought alight with the beams of light casting from above her. It gave her the look of untamable beauty. Same as the nature in this world in how it can never be captured fully by mere charcoal and parchment, but simply adored when blessed with the chance. Dettlaff’s hidden sketches of her could attest to it. 

Dettlaff remembers how he felt a pulling sensation when his witcher looked at him. It must have been a figment of his imagination but the vampire swore that he felt her heart skip. Her amber eyes always seemed to glow softly. Yet, with being so close then, Dettlaff had been able to pick out flecks of darker yellows and oranges. Some people might have related her eyes to fire, but the vampire could only think of how those colors matched to the reflection of a setting sun on the lakes in Nazair. The emotions that flash through those eyes always seemed to run as deep as those seemingly unending depths. Her long pause had the vampire mentally writhe in concern, yet the steady growing rose blush on her face had nagged him almost to another direction of thoughts.

His momentarily worry evaporated with her playful poke to his cheek and her impish smile. Dessi’s eyes had twinkled with amusement. Her slight trick had then spurred him to return the game with his own tease yet how she coyly rebuttaled him with feigned innocents nearly drove him mad. Again, his witcher had pulled her lower lip between her teeth. Her scent had grown with a rousing spice that added to the stirring heat that she always sparked within him. It would have been a simple lean and….

The vampire’s mind snaps back to reality as he realizes that they have returned to their room during his musings and he suddenly becomes grateful that Dessi walked ahead of him and that she had yet to turn around to look at him. These thoughts have become more frequent as of late. The alarming feeling that seemed to grow with each thought seemed to circle back to concern-- would his feelings frighten her away? Had he not already traveled down this path before with Syanna?

The mere thought of his once lover shocked his veins with ice. Her love for him may have been a ruse but did he unknowingly push the women down to that road? Unbeknownst to him, a pained low growl slipped through his clenched teeth. A soft worried voice pulled him back to the moment. 

“Dettlaff?” He had missed how Dessi had already slipped further towards her bed of furs. Talli and Tino laid sprawled among the pelts as they slumber. Dessi was in the midst of changing her shirt where she stood half turned away but her head tilted towards him. The candle lights bathed her in a warm glow as she looked to him with furrowed brows, “Are you alright?”

He was again struck with the tight fluttering in his chest as he stared back at her. His previous thoughts had halted when it was met with the need to capture this moment of her on parchment yet the frown that grew on her face spurred him to replying, “I am,” he breathes in his nose deeply as he searched for words to somehow convey what he felt yet instead went to finishing after breathing back out equally as heavy, “tired, I believe. We both had an eventful day.” 

Dessi gives a small understanding smile back to him and her eyes crinkle with sympathy, “I understand.” her voice is quiet yet full of kindness.. She glanced over him, an odd look in her gaze but blinked away whatever she had thought before fully switching shirts. The vampire wondered what she had running through her head but had suspicions from the increased flicker of tenderness that brushed the depths of the back of his mind.. He should talk to her about these bonds she is able to create or even broadcast. He needs to talk to her about many things, including his past. 

He watched her smooth down the loose shirt on her body, one of his own he had given to her to use. Dettlaff liked how it looked on her and how his own scent would mingle with her own. Before he could run down that rabbit hole of thoughts, he pads across the room to Dessi and reaches out to place his hand on her forearm. If he means to finally open up to talk to her, he needs to actually set a time for them both.

“Dessi,” He watched how she looked down to his hand on her arm before she moved to place a small scarred hand over his and looked back to him. Again he is met with a cold and hot sick twist in his body as he does whenever he thinks of the particular subject, “I would like to take up on your offer in talking over certain things that have been weighing on me.” The words felt tight in his throat and his heart was thudding hard, yet despite how loud his pulse ranged in his ears, the vampire caught how hers sped up as well. 

Dessi’s lips purse for a moment, eyes darting to the side briefly before she cocked her head back to him, “Now?” her question was tense with unease. Her brows crease together and Dettlaff sees how her shoulders tighten up. An icy pang twisted within him at how her discomfort gave him unrest. 

“No. Not this moment or evening.” Dettlaff rushes to answer and sees the instant tension release from his witcher. Looking down to their hands, he continues, “But I would like it to be soon and if possible, to make a set time for us.” slowly he moved his palm towards her own and couldn’t help but slightly crook his lips upward when Dessi threaded her fingers with his. The smile, though, was short lived when uncertainty grew in his mind. He dreaded what possible outcomes could come to fruition. He must have paused too long again. “When?”

His eyes had met Dessi’s again and he answered, “Would tomorrow afternoon suffice?” The sooner the better for the vampire. He doesn’t believe he would be able to wait much longer without knowing if she would still find him worthy of their friendship they had built, or of the gentle warm gazes she often washes him in and possibly something more.

Dessi regards him silently for a moment before giving a light squeeze to his hand, “Tomorrow then.” she smiles, her eyes slowly squinting slightly.. Dettlaff finds the look akin to a cat trusting another. He felt a warm tickle to his heart and the vampire couldn’t help but return the action and stifled a gasp when her pupils rounded for a moment. As if she recognized her own reaction, she cast her face downwards, obscuring the faint blush blessing her cheeks. The moment brought swelling adoration in his chest and a glow of hope that she would one day feel no need to shy away from her reactions. 

In a mumble Dettlaff hears Dessi add on in a shrug off tone, “plus, you already heard quite a bit of my ‘woe is me’ tales and it’s only fair I listen to you.”

A frown pulled immediately at Dettlaff as he took his other hand to cup under Dessi’s chin to have her look at him again, noticing that she first stiffened before relaxing to his touch. His voice firm, low, yet kind, “Dessi, please don’t speak as if your past was simply a mild trife. You have been through many weighty events and you are allowed to speak about how they affected you.”

Dessi remained silent briefly. Dettlaff watches how she mentally chews on his words.As if she had came to an agreement in her mind or perhaps something that clicked instead, Dessi smiled sincerely, “alright Dettlaff, I won’t.”

Dropping his hand away from her, Dettlaff steps back with a satisfied ‘hmm’, “Thank you,” the vampire said earnestly, happy with how she agreed with him. 

They bid each other good night and when Dettlaff had settled in his bed he couldn’t help but focus on Dessi’s heart from across the room. It had become his comfort over the course of the time they had known each other. Slower than humans yet strong in its rhythm, it had become something like a lull to the vampire. Yet anxious thoughts seeped into his mind in how their relationship could shift and the ice of those thoughts always took it to the worst of directions. A hushed sigh was heard by Dessi, and Dettlaff knew that to be when she finally drifted fully into her dreams. 

She wouldn’t think of him as a monster? A witcher who had found shelter among a den of vampires. Who she had risked her own life for his own kin on multiple counts. One that struck him was her actions in saving the pups. Dessi had slew humans for them and without second thought before even truly knowing what the pups’ nature was. She had even given them shelter and safety after finding out without hesitation. Dessi was also first to try and comfort himself over the loss of the pups’ mother. She wouldn’t leave him out of the blue? Would she? 

The thoughts kept coming, back and forth with different ways how things could go. This will be a long night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The edge of consciousness lazes at the ends of Dettlaff’s mind as he realized sleep did finally take him. Absentmindedly he reaches out his senses to listen for Dessi’s breathing and heartbeat, as he does every morning. Dettlaff became fond of watching her slowly wake up since he is usually first to rise. He was met with silence and alertness washed over him like chilled water. 

Dettlaff immediately pushed himself up, blinking his eyes clear as he searched the room. Her bed of furs laid empty and his body froze in the grip of worry. The vampire pushed himself to take a deep breath to shake off his unease before closing his eyes and focusing his mind to finding where his witcher went off to. He didn’t know exactly when he was so easily able to detect her with the same ease as any other lesser vampires or even those he tied together with his own blood, such as Regis, but Dettlaff knew that whatever extent that her mutations gave that path a way to be created. Though Dessi may not show in the same clarity as vampires do, he feels what they have grow moment by moment. Like a dancing light, Dettlaff feels drawn to her. If he was to have one wish, he would spend it on Dessi giving him the opportunity to simply stay in her life. 

Even with delving into his muses he senses the familiar dancing light of his witcher through the lines of their bond and feels the grip of worry ease its claws from his chest. More clearly he senses the always cheerful sensation that only radiates so brightly from little Anya as Dettlaff clues in to understanding that Dessi and Anya are in a conversation. It was coupled by the familiar presence of quiet curiosity of Jek. Dettlaff sighs deeply as if the air finally was able to fill his lungs properly the first time in the morning and a smile blooms as the previous worry dispels to warm contentment. They were down a different set of tunnels that vered to what could be described as a common area, or a juncture of several tunnels that spread out from it. That is what Dettlaff could gather at this point.

Pushing himself fully off the bed of furs, Dettlaff stands up and stretches his arms upward and arches his back. A low groan emits from him and the vampire idly brushes his claws through his hair and winces at the tangles. He should really start braiding it at night with how long it is getting since it now passes his shoulders. For now he grabbed the leather string off his desk and bound his hair into a low ponytail before setting off to find Dessi. 

It didn’t take long for the worrying thoughts of last night to swirl their tendrils into his mind at each step through the dimly lit caves. Like a rotting pit within his stomach it made his lips curl into a grimace. Air pushed through his nose in a huff as he wrangled them off. It would be useless to let the thoughts drive him off from what needs to be done. He will speak to her. He will not cower away from what he has already set out to do. Dessi is owed the knowledge of his own past and his wishes to never repeat such a tremendous mistake. A twist of pain wrangled his heart over a particular atrocious action that he almost completed. One that almost cost his dear blood brother’s mate. Dettlaff will make up for his actions, whatever the cost of himself. 

The growing thoughts had halted on the spot with the echoes of infectious laughter belonging to the one he owes his story too. It stuttered his steps into a standstill as he relished the sounds and couldn’t help but hear the conversation that was being held after it. 

“Sooo,” the always so optimistic voice of Anya ranged out, caring the tones of curiosity of the question soon to follow. 

A soft, barely their hum was added with Dessi’s voice, “oh no, I know that tone.” a light chuckle, “what is on your mind?”

A pause. “Do you like him?” Dettlaff’s brow rose at the vague question. It seemed by Dessi’s next words that she also was unknowing in what the little alp meant.

“Like...who?”

“Like Dettlaff?” the young alp’s voice carried amusement, as if the question’s meaning should have been obvious. The question rooted Dettlaff to the ground though a part of him almost pushed him to quickly make his way to them to announce his presence. The sense of eavesdropping on this conversation made an uncomfortable twist in his mind but Dessi was already speaking again.

“Well of course, what kind of question is that?” Dettlaff’s eyes widened at the admission as Dessi continued unknowing of her listener, “He is an amazing friend, why wouldn’t I?”

It was with a quieter more timid voice that sounded next, “no. not like that.” Dettlaff recognized it belonging to Jek. 

“Like what?” Dessi’s voice tied with befuddlement. 

“Like like Dessi. Do you like like Dettlaff?” Anya’s voice has Dettlaff imagining her smiling with the words. 

Silence rang deafeningly for the moment after the girl’s question and alarm filled the vampire. He cannot let himself listen to what Dessi might answer while she was unknowing to his presence. It felt as if it would be a betrayal of trust and the vaguest thought of that gave a discomforting rising beat to his heart. 

Dettlaff’s body disacorperated into mists as he made haste to them before Dessi’s answer. He could not allow himself to find out her feelings through an unintentional eavesdrop. Yet before he could round the last bend of the tunnels to where the trio resided, a sharp chiding voice ranged.

“Anya,” Serphae, “enough with the questions.” Dettlaff materialized out of sight at the Bruxa’s interjection. “You should know better than to ask of something that is not yours to find out. That goes for you as well Jek.” The sharp look of disapproval could be felt while even unseen to Dettlaff.

A soft sorry was heard from the nekurat before Serphae spoke up once more, “Dessi, will you accompany me for a time? I have a need for you.”

“I, uh,” Dessi’s voice wavered in uncertainty, “sure.”

“Good. Now you two run along.”

Two sets of quick light steps disappeared before another two sets padded off in a different direction away from Dettlaff, leaving him in a dumbfounded and at a loss. This was most definitely not the way he thought the day would start off. Not at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like to apologize on taking so long. I think I psyched myself out with how long originally this chapter was going to be so instead I cut it so the rest will be the next chapter. well, the chapter afterward the next one that is since the next one is an art chapter to show off some of Dessi art =D  
> Also got a new job, which has been pretty stressful and does not help the ever so persistent writer's block. 
> 
> As always, a comment a chapter keeps the story a flowing.


	15. Art Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ART CHAPTER!!!  
> The first is an art commision by @Ghilenart on tumblr  
> The second is what I created through screen shots and bits of my art on Art breeder.com including some of my own edits for the eyes, scars, and freckles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just love showing off my girl  
> Their are some other art of Dessi by my own hand and by others on my witcher blog @Witcher-not-quitter following the tag of ♦Dessi of Gelibol♦ for those who want to check out facts and other stuff about my witcher OC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always I will try my best to keep this story going and Always love any feedback from you lovely readers!  
> Y'alls comments always make my day♥♥♥

**Author's Note:**

> While an apple a day keeps the doctor away, a comment a chapter keeps the story going. Any and all comments are welcomed of all types. I have no beta reader but will gladly accept any help. I write this intending to make this quite a long fanfic and will be the first time for myself attempting such. I am not by any means a expert writer and I wish to simply grow my skills with this being my exercise and will take any healthy criticisms and tips.


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